Mama Chalone's restaurant in the village had become a several-times-a-week habit with them, its warm, intimate atmosphere the spawning place of innumerable romantic hours together the year passed, and now it seemed almost sacrilegious to Betty Johnson that she should bring unhappiness to the handsome, sad-faced young man seated across the table from her, especially within these hallowed walls and on their very last night together.
"It's not as if we were just breaking it off, Gordon... never going to see one another again," she reminded him softly, her long, lacquered-nailed fingers reaching out to cover his strong hand where it toyed with a gold cigarette lighter on the red checkered table-cloth. She searched his thin, expressive face with its rather prominent Classic Greek nose, the finely delineated lips and deep dark eyes for reaction, and was surprised at his sudden effort toward impassiveness. "It'll only be for a year, darling. Probably by that time, I'll have had my fill of teaching altogether."
"I think I'd hate to count on that," he replied, his words abruptly clipped, his tone an articula- tion of disappointment edged with anger. "I mean... well, I certainly can understand you wanting to teach. After all, that's why you got your Bachelor of Arts, but why such a God-forsaken place as Appalachia? I mean, damnit, Bett, what's the percentage?"
"Percentage!" she flared back at him, the word inciting her own ire immediately. "Must everything be measured by some sort of monetary gain to appeal to your sense of debits and credits, Mr. Blaine? God, you sound just like Daddy. He can't understand why I would want to 'throw a year of my life away,' as he puts it, trying to educate a bunch of illiterate hillbillies..."
"Damnit, I can't say that I disagree with him," Gordon Blaine chided. "To me, it's an absolute rattlebrained thing to do. But I know that trying to change your mind once you've got it set is like talking to that wine bottle, or the candle in it."
Her lips had compressed tightly, making a little white ring about the edge of her pale, lightly applied lip-rouge, and she bobbed her head in a curt, characteristic gesture of determination. She said: "I do intend to accept it, Gordon... but I'd hoped with both yours and my parents' blessings. I realize that it must appear utterly stupid to you, the menial pay and all... but don't you see, the money isn't important to me. It's the desire to contribute something vitally needed, a feeling of accomplishment that I must satisfy within myself. Please, won't you try to understand?"
He studied her for a long moment, then reached for the hand she had withdrawn. "Darling, I'm sorry," he said, dropping his eyes and wagging his handsome head slowly. "I didn't mention the word monetary, but I guess I was thinking it." His deep-onyx eyes softened, and a warm affectionate smile brought white, even teeth into view. He gazed into her lovely blue-grey eyes, watching the subsiding, tiny scintilating explosions her instant fury had caused. "The secret word is selfish, Bett. I guess I just can't bring myself to cope with the idea of your not being here in New York with me. I'd hoped... hoped once you were finished at Columbia that we would be married. That's why I was so damned happy about landing the junior Account Exec setup with Teague, Rowan and Morrison."
She turned her hand so that her palm was against his and pressed gently, her own smile returning. "I was as happy as you about your going with T.R.&M., darling..."
"They're Madison Ave's finest," he put in proudly. "And you know what I'm making now, and what my future is."
She did love this boy very much, and did want to become his wife, but this burning ambition to do something worthwhile for others less fortunate than herself had been a dream she'd nourished since her early teens. To marry him now, even though she was only twenty, would be to leave that dream behind her, and she was certain her emptiness for the rest of her life would be equal to that of a frustrated clergyman who has turned his back on his calling. As much as she loved him, and as much as she would miss him, there was not the slightest twinge of a doubt in her mind but that she would accept the offered position in Wilks-brake, West Virginia. As a matter of fact, in her excited anticipation, it was difficult for her to think of much else, and she had hoped on this last evening that she would not only be able to make him understand her dedication, but that he too would share the jubilant elation she was enjoying within herself.
The flickering candle-light danced in his still pensive eyes, but his yielding smile told her of his resignation. Faintly, the enchanting sounds of Venetian mandolins drifted to her, and at that moment her heart filled almost to the breaking point with love of him.
"I think what we need is a bottle of Chianti '55 to help remember this night," he said, motioning to Gino, Mama Chalone's youngest son. "I can see right off that playing the wounded suitor is going to net me exactly nothing. Besides, it's time we drank a toast to your success."
Gino came, accepted their order and left. Gordon watched the tears wash the whites of her enrapturing eyes, watched them sparkle like fine jewels in the wavering fight from the candle, and momentarily the vision of her tall, graceful loveliness crossing this very room that first time caught at his breathing. Her beauty had stunned him; her shoulder-length ash-blonde hair literally blinding him with the need to touch it, run his fingers through it, bury his face in it. And he had pursued her, with all the charm and charisma he could possibly muster, for he loved her completely from that very first moment.
It'd been a beautiful association, he thought, their love openly expressed, but chaste almost to the point of distraction. God knows, he wanted her, and the few times they'd come so close, but that inherent puritanism of hers had always prevailed, and for some odd reason he found that he wasn't sorry, once that animal urge was past. He guessed that he loved her the more for this, but as well had his passionate yearning to make love to her increased, and now that she was leaving him on this foolhardy mission of hers the frightening thought that he might never be with her this way again had begun to haunt him, causing him to be anything but a gallant fiance on this the eve of her leaving. He was probably being damned childish about it and he knew it; still, he hadn't been able to help himself, and even now this air of acceptance he was portraying was so shallow that he feared she'd see through it.
"Darling Gordon," she whispered, caressing his hand now between both of her own. "You know I love you. You know I want to marry you... but do you know and understand what this means to me? It's the realization of a dream I've nurtured since I was a little girl..."
Gino returned with their wine in a straw-colored fiaschi, and she paused. She watched him pour and Gordon sample, then approve, and the young waiter filled her glass with the reddish liquid. When he was gone, Gordon raised his glass.
"To the successful and short career of the most gorgeous girl in the world... my future wife he said, his eyes tracing the delicate bone structure beneath the smooth, tight skin of her exquisite face. "May she come back to me soon."
Betty lifted her own, touching his to make a tinkling sound, then sipped lightly.
"I've always had the impression little girls wanted to be nurses," he said, setting down his wine and lighting two cigarettes, handing her one.
"I guess they do, don't they," she agreed. "In fact, that was my goal too, but that was because Daddy was a doctor, I suppose." She puffed at her cigarette without inhaling, thinking aloud. "In those days, we lived in a small manufacturing town outside of Syracuse, and the people were all so poor. It seemed as if everyone was continuously sick in that sad little place, and I used to think that when I grew up I'd be a nurse and make them all well." She laughed lightly to herself. "Daddy worked so hard... keeping long office hours and always being called out in the night. But that's how I like to remember him. He seemed happy then."
"That's an odd thing to say," Gordon remarked. He had only met her parents once, and then only for a brief visit when they had hurriedly been passing through New York to a medical convention. There'd been hardly time to form opinions of them.
Betty made a thin, almost forlorn smile at him. Then, she went on: "We had a nice little house there, but it was modest, and I doubt that Mama was ever happy a day in it. She disliked those working people very much .. called them white trash." She sighed. "I'm afraid Mama always entertained visions of grandeur, and kept after my father until she'd beaten down the last ounce of humanitarianism he had left inside him. Then, v/e finally moved into Syracuse and Daddy went to surgery. From there on his practice seemed to grow and grow in leaps and bounds."
Gordon found himself appraising her closely. Her short verbal dissertation into family background had surprised him. She was not one given to baring her innermost thoughts. He said: "You've never told me this before, Bett... about your mother, I mean. Do I detect... a bit of malice there, maybe?"
Betty shrugged pretty shoulders. "No, not really. I love Mama... but I'm not very proud of her greed and ambitious social climbing. I... I feel that she destroyed Daddy's dedication, until today, his own avarice would match hers."
He took up his glass and drank from it while she tasted her own. He was thinking that even though he didn't know her parents very well, he had been excited with the obvious impression of wealth they gave. To him who had never known the luxury, wealth and position was of the utmost importance and he appreciated the wife who shared and incited her husband forward up the ladder, and it irked him to know that Betty was not this way. Finally, he said: "And how does this devotion to teaching and missionary work of yours evolve out of all this?"
Instantly, she sensed a certain bite in his tone and it offended her. It seemed that their relationship suffered a constant up and down pattern, subject to his unpredictable, chameleon moods,and these she surmised were due to her refusal to sleep with him. He could be cruel, almost ruthless, right in the middle of something beautiful, belie-ing the liquid, soft expression in his eyes. And now, spontaneously, had come one of the letdowns, but she had already decided that she would not let his moodiness provoke her this night. Instead, she answered: "I suppose it just gradually ocvercame me as I grew older and wiser. You know, darling, you've only to look around you, take a ride through Harlem, or read a newspaper to realize that ignorance is the main affliction of this world. Lack of education and the opportunity to gain same... this is the basic root of the country's problems, her ghettos, her racial hatred, her violence."
"Fine. I'll subscribe to that," he agreed. "But why Appalachia? Why not Long Island, Queens, or even Newark? Is the ignorance more profound there than here?"
"Perhaps not. But finding teachers who are dedicated and who'll work for the paltry sum they pay there is a very profound problem. Long Island, Queens, and Newark are not hit with that enigma... now are they?"
"Oh hell, Betty," he came up shortly, shuffling his chair about with irritation. "Your noble logic is fine, but your blind stubborness gets to me. What you're actually doing in case you don't know it, is placing this... this stupid quest of yours above our so-called love... and future together. Do you realize that?"
"I don't mean it to be that way, Gordon, and you know it. It's only for a year, and it's apparent to me that if our love has any merit at all, it should be able to endure one little year of separation."
"One little year! Have you given any thought just how long one year is? Twelve months... fifty-two weeks... three-hundred-sixty-five days... and nights..." Suddenly, he pushed from the table, arose, and with mouth set in a near pouting grimace, said: "Excuse me, please. I think I need a walk."
Betty watched him storm off toward the John and had to smile to herself as he disappeared through the archway toward the bar side. He reminded her of a little boy who was being denied his own way, but of course she was used to this side of him too.
She truly felt sorry for him, and she'd never liked the ambitious gleam in his eye. Her whole life had been filled with enough of that. He just couldn't seem to accept and understand that she had to do this thing, nor could her wealthy and greedy parents. Lord... was it possible that all of them were right and she was wrong? Was the "every man for himself" theory the proper one? Would she be sorry once she was into it? Well, maybe she would, but at least she'd know firsthand. Nothing was impossible, but one thing was certain inside her, she wouldn't give up once she started. They'd never have that satisfaction over her. Her pride and determination would never allow her to do that Her thoughts drifted to some of her girl friends at school and at home, and their total lack of need to give of themselves. She supposed that they too would consider her a fool, their single ambitions to own a house or dish-washer and to keep their boyfriends at any cost, their one major aim in life. They nauseated her. Not one of them would reach out beyond their selfish, superficial worlds to offer a hand. God, she sometimes wondered if they thought of their husbands-to-be in the same light that they did an electric dish-washer.
Abruptly, she saw the back of Gordon's head through the archway and knew that he was moving to the bar to find solace in a fast drink. He wanted her to see him. That was part of it. Again, she smiled to herself. Lord, she really did love him. With him, she knew, there could have been sex. Properly approached, at the right psychological moment, there had been times when he could have seduced her. Actually, she had no loathing of it, but sharing an apartment with her girl friend, Dottie Evans, and Gordon not owning a car, had made real opportunities rare indeed; more than this had been her sixth instinctive sense, the one that advised her his attitude would undergo immediate change once their relationship took that turn. On top of this, of course, was her strong religious upbringing, plus her own personal conviction that this ultimate bliss was meant for the marriage bed alone.
God knows, they had come very close to it several times, but somehow, she had always managed to stem the tide before the disastrous, critical moment. And each time, she had read something in his eyes, something in that ruthlessness that was there so naked that she wondered why she didn't detect it all the time. It was almost as if it were a test of character, hers as well as his; yet, she never forgot for one moment that what was meant for the gander to gobble was never intended for the delicate bill of the goose. Not in this man's world.
Then, she recalled their episode together only the Sunday before. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought of it and she drained the wine from her glass, refilling it once more. It had turned out a warm, sunshiny, late-August day, and Gordon had come by in the afternoon just as she had slipped on her bikini and was heading for the roof for a sun-bath. He had joined her, eventually stripping to his jockey-shorts with her permission. Then, before either of them realized it, there on the blanket and shielded from everyone except, perhaps, some nosey pilot who might pass overhead, they lay stretched out against one another, kissing passionately.
She'd been able to feel the hard bulge in his shorts, revealing his urge; and soon, their kisses had achieved a plane of total sexuality, to the point where only the real thing would suffice. Now, she remembered his hands on her breasts, outside the flimsy material of her bra, and how she had made no move at all to stop him from undoing the tie-straps, wanting to believe that going this far was all right; then, had come the tender, tingling sensations of his fingers tracing over the hot, naked flesh of her breasts, his pinching of her nipple causing her to moan and gasp, so that she hadn't caught at his hand as it taunted her flat tummy madly, moving always downward over those sensitive areas to the inside of her quivering thighs, and in one smooth, unhesitating execution, went straight under the thin wisp of cloth to the moist lips of her vagina. A dryness crept into her throat now as she remembered how close they had come. She'd damn near lost her head entirely as he tenderly massaged her clitoris, then slipped his fingers deep into the seething passage between her legs.
Finally, when he had tried to pull down that part of her suit, something had snapped within her brain and she had made the big effort, stopping him. Naturally, they had argued; then he had threatened, and at last, pleaded. In the end, he had gotten up disgustedly, just has he had done a few moments before, lighted a cigarette and silently pulled on his clothes. He'd strolled around the roof staring off for a long interval, and finally came back to her. By that time, both of their ardors had cooled considerably, and she'd had only the uncomfortable wetness between her legs to remind her of how close to the edge they had strayed.
Now, she finished her wine and watched him approach through the archway. He was smiling faintly, and she knew his anger had passed once more. He joined her, taking her hand immediately.
"I rn sorry again," he said, his sad eyes searching her own.
"It's all right. I understand," she replied genial- iy- He picked up his lighter, toying with it once more. At last, he said: "I love you, Bett."
"I know... and I love you."
"I... I wish I could change your mind about this thing," he went on, making one last valiant effort. "We could be married right away..
She squeezed his hand. "Please, darling He stopped, nodded and smiled once more. "Well... it's getting on, and you have to catch a plane early in the morning. I suppose we better "Yes," she said, slowly withdrawing her hand and picking up her purse. "Let's walk it. It's not far."
"Ten blocks."
She smiled radiantly. "Since wnen was ten blocks been a long walk for lovers?"
They were three blocks from her apartment when the shower caught them. It seemed just to burst from the heavens, one of those late fall downpours, the temperature dropping almost immediately, and even though they laughed and romped in it, they were both chilled and drenched by the time they reached the vestibule of the old brownstone where Betty and Dottie Evans shared the front, third-floor apartment. Laughing, and with arms encircling each other's waist, they climbed the groaning stairway, stopping on each dimly-lit landing to steal a lass.
Inside the aged, high-posted, three-room quarters, Gordon drew her to him once more before she could reach the light switch. His lips found hers and he pressed his mouth wetly to her, grinding it tightly upon her own. She felt herself go limp, then the soft eagerness of his tongue bid for entry and she gently pushed free of him.
"You're soaked right through," she heard herself say, as she fumbled for the light switch, flooding illmination into the comfortable, but humbly furnished room. "Lord, I can't let you go out like that. You'll catch your death," she went on, tugging at her own clinging, wet things, then noticing the note on the library table they used for a desk. "Take off your coat and I'll make us some coffee."
She picked up the note and commenced to read as Gordon said: "I'm afraid it goes further than my coat, angel. My pants are dripping... What's that you're reading?"
"Note from Dottie. She's gone to the fights at St. Nick's with Jerry, that beer-truck driver she dates. Won't be home until late, she says."
"Good," he grinned and said, "How about me peeling off these clothes then, and letting them dry?"
Betty raised an eyebrow, cocking her head with a cute little suspicious smile. "No shenanigans?" she taunted.
"Hell, I'm not going to promise that," he said, playing the impish game with her. "I mean, alone with the most luscious creature in the world, stripped to my next-to-nothings... ? What kind of red-blooded, American boy do you think I am?"
She had placed hands on hips jauntily and was eyeing him, her head still tilted to one side. "Well..." she said, "I've handled you before... I guess I can again."
It was all in fun, this teasing, yet at the same time she felt a certain sensation of excitement surge through her at the thought of him being near-nude with her once more. She sensed her face flushing and said: "You go ahead and get those wet things off. I'll see if I can find something for you to put around you. Meantime, I'm going to get into something dry myself."
In the bathroom, she undressed quickly, stripping the cold wet garments from her skin and grabbing up a towel to rub herself dry. She caught her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of the door, pausing long enough to study the image she made. No superfluous flesh, creamy-smooth skin now tinted to a pinkish hue from the toweling, taut, high breasts and gentle sloping shoulders. She had always been pleased with the long length of her legs and was modestly aware of their shapeliness, her narrow waist and the lengthy strength of her hips. She dropped the lid of the commode and sat down to dry her feet, and the soft, silky hair at the V of her loins drew her attention. God, she was suddenly hot. It must have been the wine. Spirits of any kind had always affected her that way. Well, she could see that she would have to keep her head this night...
The door opened gently and she bolted to her feet, holding the towel in front of her. Gordon stood there, unmoving, wearing only his tight jockey-shorts.
"Gordon! You promised .. . !"
He came toward her with his slender, muscular body, his head shaking negatively and words coming from him. "No, I didn't... remember?" She saw the heavy sag in the front of his shorts and the big protruberance pointing in her direction through the cloth.
"My God, Gordon," she managed with an intense hiss, "Dottie is apt to walk in. Please..."
But then he had reached her, gently tugging the towel away and dropping it to gather her into his arms, her naked flesh pressed tightly against him as he kissed her with fury, flattening and spreading her hps open until she uncontrollably splurged her tongue into his mouth. A frightened hollow-ness came alive at the pit of her stomach, and she felt herself being transported out and across the living-room toward the darkened bedroom as if they were one individual, his body seeming to move with hers rather than to oppose it, her weakening resistance leaving her nothing absolute to fight against. Then, she floated downward under his pressure until they were both stretched out atop the bed.
His hands commenced to explore ner body, caressing the swell of her breasts. She felt their nipples distend, and then he bit one, causing her to whine feebly.
"Please, darling, no!" she begged, sensing the danger.
But it was as though she had not spoken, his hands prowling, so to speak, with a mind of their own, over ribs and belly, brushing the velvety pubic hair until she prickled between her legs and tried to squirm away. Still, his hands followed her, splaying the tender lips of her vagina open as did his mouth upon her own. She groaned against him, unable to contain herself as she writhed on his fingers.
"My darling... Gordon," she panted into his face. "Oh God, we mustn't! Dottie might walk in... Oh God, darling, you know we mustn't!"
Suddenly, he had slipped out of his shorts and she heard him breathe harshly at his own nakedness. Then, she felt the huge, hot throbbing of his penis pressed into the smooth flesh of her hip. His fingers continued to assault her tingling passage, burrowing deeper and deeper. She jerked, a soul-searing moan escaping from deep in her chest as she arched her neck, rolling her head from side to side and grinding her naked buttocks down into the mattress, endeavoring to escape his raping of her secret genitals.
"Oh, no, no, no," she muttered, gnashing ner teeth with the word as it ricocheted around the walls of her skull.
Again, he dropped his head to her breast, cupping it in his hand and sucking the tiny, throbbing nipple deep into his wet mouth.
"Dear God," she moaned, knowing she must, but not knowing how to stop him before it was too late.
His wet mouth had begun a gentle nibbling along her shoulder sending goose-bumps racing over her flesh. She quivered uncontrollably from the sudden unexpected sensation, and then his moist lips had fastened tightly to an erected nipple once more, beginning a gentle sucking pressure against it. His hand eased from her vagina and together they coursed lightly over the soft firmness of her belly and thighs. She tried to protest in words and with her hands, but neither would respond, as his mouth played for a long delicious moment around her throbbing breasts, moving from one to the other, his tongue trailing wetly through the narrow fleshy valley between them as he alternated his attention to each.
And then, his mouth was sliding down over her trembling belly, his penis moving along the furrow her clamped together legs made as his body slipped downward. He ground his tongue for a moment into her navel, raising soft mewls and gasps of pleasure from her now opened mouth. Again, she sought to stop him, but it was as if she had become momentarily paralyzed. She moved lower, maddening patterns of indecent sensations trailing after his gently nipping teeth. She felt her thighs being pressed gently open and she could make no resistance as he hunched down between them. She sucked in her breath with a gasp as she felt his thumbs pressing outward and spreading the soft hair-covered lips of her vagina and the coolness of the air touched against her there. His tongue flicked forward, the tip teasing moistly against the tiny bud of her clitoris causing it to throb into hardness. He lowered his fingers and spread the opening of her cunt wider apart, and then suddenly dropping his tongue from her clitoris, thrust it deep into the pink, moist flesh of the smooth, throbbing passage.
She jerked from the sudden wet contact and reaching down, tangled her fingers in his hair, wantonly pulling his face hard into her loins. His tongue circled around maddeningly inside her, the tip flicking against the wet sensitive walls of her pussy, sending insane spasms through her whole naked body.
"Oooohhh," a long groan escaped from deep in her throat, and then, she heard herself moaning, "You've got to stop, my darling! We can't! We can't...!" And to her own amazement, plus confused disappointment, he was moving up over her, leaving her insatiated cunt alive with fire, and then he was kissing her, thrusting his tongue deep into her throat as he took her hand, placing it demandingly on his cock.
She surprised herself and let it remain there. Lord, it was enormous! She had never been aware of their massiveness. God, it would kill her, split her vagina wide open... but the feel of it throbbing impatiently in her hand was delighting her. How she'd like to bury it inside her inflamed cunt this very moment! Instinctively, she commenced stroking and massaging the hot, pulsating member, rubbing the skin tantalizingly back and forth. Then, curiosity took hold of her and almost unconsciously she slipped her hand downward, feeling for his balls, their hairiness and silky texture I amazing her. She had heard somewhere how susceptible they were to physical hurt and stroked f them gently, almost lovingly, holding them in her palm. Gordon was grinding his teeth and grunting between breaths. Then she felt a wetness cold on her thigh and wondered if he had come, yet his prick was still as hard as a slab of wood. It must be the lubricant men produce...
"Bett... honey... my God, I want you! I've got to fuck you, Bett... I" he gasped frantically.
"Oh no, darling. No! You'd hate me after! I ! know you would," she moaned, his foul obscenity sending a shock of lewd excitement through her, as her crotch quivered with her need for him.
"Damnit, I've got to, don't you see?" he whined passionately. "Tomorrow, you'll be gone. We won't see each other again for God knows how long. You can't leave me like this, Bett... not if you really love me!"
She must let him, her physical being kept telling her, while her brain struggled to maintain control of her inflamed senses. She wanted him! She wanted! God, how she wanted him! She couldn't stop herself now! She was fighting a losing battle with herself!
"Bett... angel...!"
He rolled atop of her and once again, at that precise moment, something snapped within her brain just as it had upon the roof.
"No, Gordon! No! You can't, darling! I just can't let you do it and ruin everything for us." She hugged him tight to her and talked wetly against his mouth, even as he tried to squirm his penis between her now tightly closed thighs. "Listen to me, darling, listen to me! If we do this we're both going to be sorry. Don't you see? It'll mean so much more to us later if we wait..."
"Good God, I can't wait any longer," he cried.
She kissed him hard as he continued to thrust his cock down through the upper portion of her wet hair-lined slit, fighting madly to reach the mouth of the smooth, pink passage she held from him between her tightly clamped thighs, his every stroke sending wild sensations through her as his prick rubbed the erect bud of her clitoris.
"Please, please, Gordon. Let me do something else," she pleaded, realizing that she could not send him away in this condition, that she must give him relief of some kind. But he seemed not to hear her and she reached down between them taking his hardened cock in both hands only seconds before he entered her with his jerking and thrusting.
Suddenly, as she grasped the thick, ramming member and he continued to pump wildly, he gave forth a harsh cry. She felt his prick expand and contract in her hands, and the helpless gasps of passion poured out of him again and again. Then, she felt the hot fluid spurting thickly and wetly onto her stomach and running all over her thighs, seeping down between them.
At last, he collapsed on top of her, panting, almost sobbing as a child might. She caressed his head. Aly God, she thought, now much do I love thee, my darling?
Slowly, he sat up, not looking at her. He eased over to the side of the bed and let his feet touch the floor. Then, she arose, found a handkerchief in the bureau and wiped herself the best she could, surprised at the sticky feeling his sperm left on her skin. She pushed back her hair from her face and went over to him, lifting his chin until she could see into his face in the semi-darkness.
"Sorry..." he muttered softly. "You were right of course... as usual."
Her nerves were still keyed to a fine edge from her lack of satisfaction, but she was trying not to show it. She pulled him to her and he kissed her. They held to each other for long moments, finally separating.
"I... I guess my clothes should be dry enough now," he said.
She nodded, and he went out to the living-room, pulling on the still damp things while she slipped into a robe. At the door, she said: "You'll take a cab home, won't you?"
He said that he would. Then: "Write to me?"
"Of course, silly. You know I will."
Betty had not slept well. Once her frustration of self denial had passed, her mind had been too .filled with the strange combination of excitement over her new venture, plus the guilt left from the salacious act she had performed with Gordon, yet, each time she thought of the latter she experienced a certain carnal arousal that now shamed her... a strange blend of revulsion and desire.
On the plane to Washington, she was sure that if this were any other day but the one upon which she was launching her dream-career, she would be unable to live with herself in this humiliating debasement she felt. Once strapped into her seat, she immediately forced her mind to simply blot out that memory and concentrate on the pleasure of the trip itself. It was a mental process she had perfected as a little girl, and it worked wonders this day.
Flying time to Charleston with one stop at Washington D.C. was less than two hours, but the seventy-five miles from Charleston to Wilksbrake by Greyhound had taken twice as long with the waiting in the depot for departure, plus the almost insufferable score of stops along the way. Had it not been tor die splendor of the wooded, mountainous, picturesque countryside, she imagined that the journey would have completely exhausted her. Even as it was, she arrived in the little community of some four hundred souls, the origin of which dated pre-Civil War, with a dull grinding headache.
Wilksbrake lay situated in the southwestern part of the state, only a few miles from the Kentucky border, with the Pine Mountains to the south and the Appalachian Trail to the east. She noted immediately as the bus wound its way onto the narrow main street the quiescent atmosphere that seemed to enshroud the tree-lined way, the shaded little park in the heart of the center where a grey stone-statue of a Confederate soldier paid homage to the proud past, and in the few somber faces she saw moving stolidly along the street.
The buildings of commerce were as dated as the statue in the park. For the most part, they were two and three storied affairs, erected close together of granite and red-brick, composing that two-block section traditionally known as downtown. A single stoplight signal separated the two blocks where the four streets interjoined to form Wilksbrake's hub. It was there that Betty alighted in front of Lackey's Furniture Store, an establishment that also housed the Greyhound Line's ticket station.
Even though it was difficult to shrug off the onerous mood the town seemed to project, she made up her mind to do just that. After all, she had known from the beginning that it was not going to be some kind of lark she was setting out on. These were the poor, the neglected, the ignorant, people who had suffered untold hardships in the wake of the capitalistic system. Not that she was politically minded, nor the least bit doubtful that the U.S. form of government was the finest in the world, but like all massive operations it had its weaknesses, and Wilksbrake was the product of one of fhem. When the coal mines had closed and the big owners had introduced wholesale strip-mining, thousands and thousands of proud men who had followed in their father's and grandfather's footsteps had suddenly found themselves unemployed with nowhere to turn. And although what she was about to undertake would do little to alleviate the present circumstances of these fine people, she was confident it would play a great part in helping to mould the prospects for the future generation.
Her first move was to locate Eustace Bixbee, Principal of Wilksbrake Elementary Schools. She checked the letter in her purse to be certain of the address, but soon learned that it hadn't been necessary. The older man who operated the town's one taxi service knew right where to take her the moment she mentioned Bixbee's name. He had grabbed up her bags, placing them in the trunk, letting her climb into the ancient Buick by herself. Betty gathered that chivalry, even common courtesy, was not one of his chief attributes.
He was a large man, balding and flabby, with a round, flat, moonish face given to grinning almost to the point of obscenity. His teeth were broken and stained, probably from the tobacco he was chewing, she thought.
"So... you must be the new school teacher, eh?" he said, once they were underway and he could glance up into the rearview mirror at her.
"Yes, I am."
He grinned, his eyes raised until she could set their jaundiced whites. He said: "Out in Bolt, eh?" "I beg your pardon?"
"Bolt. Tha's a little four-corners 'bout two-mile out, right at the foot o' Mother Creek mount'in. 'Spect tha's the only place where Bixbee's be need-in' a teacher." He chuckled to himself. "Mighty lonesome out there, ma'm, but you can figure those hill boys'll liven things up for yuh."
"Liven things up .. . ?"
He chuckled once more and Betty thought she detected a trace of suggestive overtones that seemed quite unnecessary.
"Yep," he said. "Reckon tha's the nicest way I can put it. They're hellious, them hill boys. 'Course, we got some o' our own right here in Wilksbrake that'll match 'em. Matter of fact, most o' them attend die school in Bolt too. Seems if tha's kinda the place where the obstinate ones wind up."
Betty wasn't sure what he was trying to say, but his particular allusions to the problems facing her gave her a queasy feeling at the pit of her stomach. At first, she had not understood when he mentioned Bolt, but now she glanced once more at her letter from Eustace Bixbee and she found the paragraph where the name was specifically mentioned. It read in part: "Our present need is for a qualified teacher who can handle the entire eight grades. Although you will be under my jurisdiction, you will be located in Bolt, a small community two miles from Wilksbrake. Facilities are limited there, the structure being of wooden-frame and consisting of one large classroom, cloakroom, and outdoor toilets..."
She read it twice before replacing it in her purse. Really, she couldn't see any reason why she should be upset. The idea of facing the challenge of a few hardships was actually what had enticed her into accepting this appointment, wasn't it? Indeed, privation and ignorance walked hand in hand. And that's why she was here...
"Kinda young for a teacher ain'tche? Pretty too," her driver interrupted her thoughts.
Betty smiled to herself at the latter compliment. "Didn't you know that younger teachers are the rule rather than the exception these days?" she said as he slowed to a halt before a century old, red-brick building of two floors with an iron fire escape zig-zagging down its front.
The older man grunted, but said nothing. He climbed out and went to the rear for her valises, leaving her to make her own way. She paid him and he said: "Yuh need me ag'in, jus' call Bernie Struthers, ."
"Thank you, Mr. Struthers. I will," Betty said, practicing her curt professional smile on him.
She saw him lumber around the Buick to the driver's side as she picked up her bags and started up the walk toward the school. Finally, she turned and looked back, sensing his eyes staring after her. He was leaning against the car and leering over it, watching.
"Good luck," he called, licking at his hps. She turned away and walked on. When the formalities were passed, and Betty was seated across the desk from the slender little white-haired man with the sallow complexion and pince-nez glasses, she was a bit surprised to hear a more dignified version of the words Bernie Struthers had put to her.
"Frankly, I don't believe I was quite prepared for your youth and beauty, Miss Johnson," Eustace Bixbee said in a thin, nasal voice. "Your picture didn't quite do you justice, and of course, it was only a head and shoulders photograph." He cleared his throat embarrassedly. "I don't know just what to say."
Betty studied him, his words taking her aback momentarily. She wasn't sure quite how to decipher his meaning, whether as a compliment, or a detriment. "I'm... I'm afraid I don't grasp your meaning, Mr. Bixbee," she said, leaning forward an inch or so. "All of the pertinent information was included in my letter, and again in my application ..
The little man smiled, causing his reddish-gummed dentures to slip noticeably, but with a maneuver of hps and tongue he absentmindedly reset them into place.
"Quite," he assured her, adding a quick nod of his head. "Your credentials are fine... but you see, it's not that end of it I'm concerned with. There are twenty-year old women, and then there are twenty-year old girls. To be more specific, Miss Johnson, it's your beauty that upsets me."
Betty sensed the heat in her cheeks and knew she was blushing. Whatever he was getting at, she couldnt' imagine. "I... I still don't understand, Mr. ..."
"Of course, I'm sure you don't," he said, gaining his feet and walking toward the front window with hands locked behind his back.
As little as he was, she found herself thinking that his horrible, threadbare, gray suit was at least two sizes to small for him. And that ugly red tie...
"Miss Johnson," he interrupted her thoughts, turning toward her. "I'm not going to paint an unrealistic picture for you. As they say, I'm going to tell it as it is. Our school in Bolt is not the equivalent of a classroom in any normal city. The students, predominantly boys, range in ages from seven years to nineteen. Most of them are extremely backward, and seventy-five percent of the older boys... and by older, I mean, anywhere from thirteen on... border on incorrigibles. In most cases, there is no desire to learn. They are there because the law insists, or the parents insist... and in a few instances, just for something to do."
Betty found her professional smile once more and offered it to him. "Mr. Bixbee," she said, "I hadn't expected it to be an easy task. I accepted your offer knowing fully well the obstacles facing me.
"Did you?" he questioned, slowly returning to his chair, then leaning forward with elbows on the desk. "No, Miss Johnson, I don't beheve you did. Perhaps I should've warned you... been a bit more explicit in my letter... but how do you write such things?" He shook his head sadly, his eyes seeming to bug at her through the thick lenses of his spectacles. Then, he sighed heavily and said: "The last two teachers at Bolt were both' raped, and I might add that they were both older and much less attractive women than you. One was in her late forties."
Again, Betty stared at him, but this time with obvious shock registered on her lovely face. The possibility of such a horrible thing occurring had never entered her mind, and even now as she gaped at him incredulously, she could hardly comprehend his words as being factual. Children, boys... even grown teenagers were not given to such animalism... at least, not without provocation. It was just inconceivable for her to believe.
"Wh . .. what happened to those teachers?" she heard herself question in a faltering voice.
"In both cases, they left the area of their own volition, refusing to press charges. But I'm quite certain their refusal was due to local parental pressure that was brought to bear on them. Just up and leaving was the simplest course for them to take."
She still could not beheve it. "Isn't... isn't it possible that these women... these teachers were as much, to blame as the boys, Mr. Bixbee?"
He relaxed back into his chair, nodding slowly. "It's possible. In fact, the boys involved, and I'll not mention any names, accused the women of leading them on. In the end, neither teacher denied this, so we are left to believe that is what happened. However, Miss Johnson, to be for-warnedis to be forearmed. I feel it's my duty to give you the complete, unwhitewashed picture. Then, you can make your final decision."
His frank exposure of the situation, and what she should be on her guard against, pleased her. She found herself immediately liking this quiet appearing little man who would be her boss, and she entertained the secure feeling that should she have problems, she could bring them to him and expect assistance. As for the rapings, was it any different here than in any city of the United States, or even the world? Rapes, assaults, beatings, unfortunately they took place even in churches, even in the supposed security of one's own home. You had only to pick up a newspaper to realize this. Certainly, the crime was not peculiar to this section of the country. Ignorance, deprivation, these were the roots of the problem, and that was why she was here!
"I've already made my decision, Mr. Bixbee," she told him calmly, her chin high with stubborn determination. "When does school open?"
The little man could not hold back his smile. Betty saw that he was obviously pleased. She watched him Hp and tongue his slipping dentures, then heard him say: "You make me very happy, Mis Johnson. And to answer your question, school opens tomorrow at nine sharp. Now, supposing we take a quick run out to Bolt and give you a look at the school, then I'll take you over and introduce you to Birt and Winnie Olander. I've arranged for you to stay with them, at least, temporarily, until you find a place of your own."
"Very well," said Betty, picking up her purse and gaining her feet.
"Oh, by the way," he said, coming around his desk. "There's a dance tonight in the basement of the Baptist Church. It would be nice if you could attend and meet some of the citizenry. I'm sure they'd like that very much."
"I'd be delighted," she lied, the throbbing in her head now having reached the near nauseating point. She had hoped for a bath and a comfortable bed to stretch out on after getting herself situated in her new quarters, so that she would be fresh for tomorrow; but to refuse the invitation, she felt, was certainly not in order. Besides, she preferred meeting people at a function Uke this, rather than a ladies tea where one was scrutinized and picked apart by a group of old hens. Women were always more amiable when their men-folk were present.
"Shall we go?" he said, gesturing gallantly with an arm toward the door.
"Thank you, Mr. Bixbee."
The schoolhouse in Bolt left everything to be flcsired. Betty had not expected quite so squaHd a building, nor its location to be one of such desolation. A dirt road led some quarter of a mile off the macadam trunk through a wooded section that suddenly opened onto a barren, grassless yard where the ugly little frame building, badly in need of a coat of paint, forlornly sat. More wooded area completely surrounded it, and the two out-buildings for rehef purposes sat back on either side of the main edifice, right at the fringe of the forest. Two poorly hand-painted signs depicting "BOYS" and "GIRLS" hung above the askew doors of each. The conventional pump in the front playground caught her eye.
"That's the extent of the running water?" she questioned.
"I'm afraid it is. We have to rely on the dipper system out here," the little man replied nasally.
Betty said nothing, only followed behind the Principal who unlocked the door and they entered. Once again, a dejected feeling came over her. She was not astonished at the decades-old furnishings, her own scarred desk, nor the cracked blackboards, but the absolute filth of the room sickened her. She felt herself growing short tempered as she gazed incredibly around her.
"Am I expected to make this... this pig-sty into a school room, Mr. Bixbee?" she put to him sharply. "I mean... look at this floor. It's positively unsanitary..."
"Of course not, Miss Johnson," he answered, rushing quickly to the blackboard to erase with his hand some words scrawled there, but before he could obliterate, Betty had chance to absorb them.
Fuck! Cock! Cunt! She read, the foul words burning into her mind, matching the heat the rising blood in her neck and face was causing. She turned away, pretending to examine a desk, and there again the obscenity carved into the surface of the wood stared back at her.
Fuck!
"I'll have Mr. Shumaker, our janitor, come out here tonight and give the place a scouring," Mr. Bixbee was saying, and she turned about abruptly so that he would not see her staring at the vile defacement in the wood. "I had no idea the place was so dirty. But then, of course, after the summer there's always the cleaning and preparation to be done, isn't there. Well, have you seen enough, Miss Johnson?"
"Yes... quite," she managed, walking ahead of him to the door and down the steps into the yard where the pine-scented, clean air was like an ambrosia to her. She breathed it in deeply as she approached his car, then climbed in. God! She must get hold of herself. She just couldn't let these things get to her. Lord, what was she made of anyway, if the sight of a few dirty words could discourage her? Ignorance and deprivation! Remember that. Reach out to them and they will reach back to you... Who had said that? Charles Ericsen, her Psychology Professor at Columbia. Then, she remembered that he had also said: "How do teachers bear their tragic task? Simple. They look away..." But she hadn't believed that then, nor did she now. No, damnit! She would face it. There was a job to be done here and she intended to do it, and nothing... absolutely nothing was going to discourage her!
Enroute back to Wilksbrake, Betty continued with her determined thoughts, answering the little principal's questions almost subconsciously. Then, they were standing in the shabby living-room of Birt and Winnie Olander's, the heart of a bleak, brown-shingled, small six-room house on Maple Street, while a mousy, pinched-faced, tiny woman who reminded Bttty of a gopher was making an effort at a smile. Shortly, a barrel-chested, huge male in pants and undershirt made entry from the kitchen barefooted, and Eustace Bixbee introduced him as Birt Olander.
"How do you do, Mr. Olander," she said, immediately cringing inside beneath the stare of his red-rimmed, dull-gray eyes that seemed to undress her as she stood there.
"Pleasure," he mumbled, moving closer until she could see the black pitted pores of his cheeks and chin.
"I'll take you right up to your room, Miz Johnson," Winnie Olander squeaked, snapping a suspicious glare in her husband's direction. "Birt'll carry your bags up."
"Well then, I'll be running along, Miss Johnson,"
Eustace Bixbee said, taking the step backward toward the door. "We'll pick you up at eight this evening..."
Betty interrupted him. "Are you going back toward downtown, Mr. Bixbee? if I can ride back with you."
"Of course. However, you're only three blocks from down-town," he said, smiling and causing his teeth to slip.
"I'd be glad to drive yuh down, only I ain't got no car nomore," Birt Olander put in, grinning.
"Thank you just the same," Betty said, following the Principal back to his auto. And even though she didn't turn around to find out, she was certain that two pairs of eyes were observing her every move.
Young Drake Bonner sat lazily behind the wheel of the new yellow Mustang convertible his father had just given him to replace last year's model, his square, handsome, youthful face caught in a cocky half-grin as he watched the shapely blonde girl alight from old "Usetebe" Bixbee's Chew. The awkward manuever had caused her to show him enough nylon-encased thigh to bring him forward, straining his pale-blue eyes as they became fixed onto the gentle provocative sway of her well rounded hips and buttocks. He watched her all the way into White's Drug Store, then slugged the upper arm of the long-haired, mus-tached companion beside him.
"Jeez! You see that, Walt?"
"Think I'm blind or somethin'?" the long-haired one retorted.
"Damn! What an ass!" Drake Bonner exclaimed, craning his neck to toss a grin in the direction of the two fellows in the back seat.
"What a set o' boobs!" Jamey Ryan, the youngest of the four at sixteen, commented.
"Hey!" Drake Bonner came back, punching his partner again. "Know what I think? She must be the new teacher for Boltl"
Now, they all sat up to look at one another, sly, sensual grins commencing to contort their young faces, the lewd gleams leaping into their eyes telegraphing their individual thoughts.
"Yehhhh, yuh jus' might be right, Drake," Walt Berry muttered, nodding his shaggy, unkempt head slowly.
"I dunno .. . she ain't old 'nough to be no teacher," doubted Will Simpson. "She don't look no older 'n us..."
"Why the hell else she be gettin' outta Ustebe's car?" the blond headed Drake Bonner sneered. He didn't like for his judgement to be questioned. He was their leader, though it was only an imaginary post, but it was he who owned the car, flashed the money, and was the son of Judge Claude Bonner, the Mayor of Wilksbrake as well as owner of a half-dozen surrounding strip-mine operations. On top of that, Drake proudly boasted being able to whip any one of them, and most of the other young men in town. "I tell yuh, she's the new teacher for Bolt," he insisted, breaking into his good-looking, boyish grin once more.
"Jeez, I hope you're right, Drake," young Jamey Ryan put in enthusiastically. "How 'bout we gettin her down in the piney woods, eh?"
"Hell, boy, a splittail like that'd grind your little peter right off," Walt Berry taunted the younger one, and they all laughed. "Now, that kinda pussy calls for real men... like me 'n' Drake here..."
"You got that twisted, stud," the blond driver corrected. "Tha's Drake V you, right? Me first." He grinned into the homely face beside him.
"Now, yuh really wanna know the truth o' the matter, cunt like that ain't for the likes o' you scrub tails. No siree. You getta good look at that dolly? Tha's what they call class up in Charleston... course, you wouldn't know anythin' 'bout that. But she ain't no Froglegs Clinton from Roanoke, or that scrawny bitch, Miz Tupper with the flat ass an' a snatch the size of a fox-hole. I tell yuh, that HI pussy's class. She's better'n both them last two teachers put together."
"Yuh know somethin', Drake," Walt Berry chided irritably. "You're so goddamned smart, how come you're nineteen an' still only in eighth grade like me? Why... a man knows 's much's you, 'n' been all over the friggin' country like you, seems if he oughta be in college or somethin'."
Drake Bonner's face reddened spontaneously. He was extremely conscious of his inabihty to learn, but he salved himseH and those who would Hsten with the fact that he had lain in bed for three years with a rheumatic heart, and once he had been able to attend school again, he was too old to give a damn. Of course, his father had driven, threatened and pleaded, but Drake could see no logical reason for an education at that point. His family had money that would some day be his, position in the town, plus large land holdings throughout the country, and what else was there in Hfe? In fact, his only reason for attending at all was for something to occupy his time. And that's why he had gone out to Bolt, because that's where all the fun lay... but he couldn't help being touchy over his educational inadequacies, and right at that moment he was debating whether to slap Walt Berry in the mouth, or let the incident pass.
The others sensed this too, and suddenly, Will Simpson said: "Hey, you guys gotta admit we really laid it tuh ol' Froglegs, didn't we? Eh, Drake, didn't we though?" He snickered loudly. "Jeez, 'fore we were done with her she was beggin' for more. I never saw nothin' like her."
"You ain't never seen nothin' anyway," Walt Berry sneered. "Hell, o' the two o' them, Tupper was the best fuck, eh Drake? She didn't have much ass on her, but she sure knew how to hump it."
"My paw says tha's the way with all o' them after forty," Jamey Ryan sought to enlighten them. "He says they figure it jus' might be their last one...
"Hey, here she comes," Drake Bonner cut in, his wrath subsided now at the sight of the luscious blonde girl. "Let's give her a li'l treatment."
She saw them leering and leaning out of their car long before she was in hearing range of their conversation. She obviously was attempting to ignore them, but they were making that most difficult.
"Sonofabitchl Now that's what I call pretty pussy," she heard the shaggy-haired one say, and for the umpteenth time that day, she felt the blood rushing to her face.
"Hey, baby, how Taout you 'n' me hustlin' into the pineys for a quickie?" another taunted.
"I betcha she really loves it in the ass," a childish voice tittered vulgarly. "Man, she's got the tail for it," still another put in.
"Come on, teacher, don't try tuh pretend you don't like a good screwin'," Walt Berry called after her, while Jamey Ryan commenced to whistle "Worms-Crawl-In" in cadence with her measured strides.
They had all turned around and were still watching and whistling after her when she was nearly a block beyond them. Finally, Drake Bonner said: "You studs know somethin'? Bet she shows up at the dance tonight. 'Member Froglegs and Tupper? Ol' Ustebe had 'em come to the Summerend Dance so's they could meet up with the good town folks 'fore school started."
"Yehhh," Walt Berry murmured, a leer spreading his thick-lipped, homely mouth beneath the scraggly mustache he was endeavoring to raise. "I bet she will too."
"An' yuh know what I'm thinkin'?" Drake Bonner commenced his own little lascivious grin.
"What yuh thinkin', Drake?" Will Simpson asked eagerly.
Drake Bonner chuckled. "I'm thinkin' now if'n' that cute bitch shows up t'night that I'm gonna slip some meat into her."
"An' I'm thinkin' yuh can't do it without help, lest yuh slug hell outta her," Walt Berry grunted.
Young Bonner glared at his companion. "What 'n hell you wanna bet, wise ass?"
"That yuh get her tuh lay down all by yourself 'thout us helpin' 'n' you not knockin her 'round?"
"Tha's right. Just a straight out screw-me lay-down 'cause she wants tuh," Drake Bonner spat, angry now because he had made the boast, but knowing he had already gone too far to back down.
"Hell man, I'll betcha five-bucks yuh can't do it," Walt Berry sneered at him. "Like yuh said, she ain't no Froglegs or Tupper..."
"Where the hell you gonna get five-bucks?"
"I'll owe yuh."
"Yeah... an' I'll always have it comin', eh? That way I ain't ever gonna be broke," Bonner retorted.
"Yuh gonna try tuh squirm outta it now?" derided Walt Berry.
"Tuh hell I am! I said it an' I'll do it," Drake answered confidently.
"How we gonna know ifn your tellin' the truth?" Walt Berry put to him.
"Yeah, how we gonna know, Drake?" Jamey Ryan echoed.
"'Cause I'll tell yuh. Tha's how you'll know," Drake said, looking from one to the other of them. "Good 'nough?"
The boys in back nodded their agreement and Walt Berry said: "Why not? I figure yuh lie Tsout it, we'll find out sooner 'r later."
Drake Bonner righted himself in the seat and started the engine. "Okay studs, all out. Gotta go home and catch me somethin' to eat. Gonna need all the energy I can get up tuh make that tight little ass squirm t'night. See yuh later."
"Yeijiih, see yuh later," said Walt Berry, the last to jump over the closed door and watch the yellow convertible blast off with a squeal of rubber.
"What yuh think, Walt?" Will Simpson asked, coming up beside the shaggy-haired one.
Walt pressed his hps together tightly. Finally, he said, "I'm thinkin' how I envy that cocky bastard."
Drake Bonner wheeled the Mustang toward Bonner Hill were the yellow-bricked mansion sprawled palatially, overlooking the quiet valley and Wilks brake below. He could think of nothing except the image in his mind of that tight assed, beauty wiggling along the street, and how much he'd like to be ramming his prick into her right now, right this godamned minute. She was the new teacher all right. He felt sure of it, and he'd bet his allowance that she'd be at the dance tonight. And sure as hell, he was going to get to her. He'd bragged to the gang that he could, and by God, he would, even if he had to rape her! As usual, he would spike the Reverand Doxtedder's punch when he got a chance, and that would help get things started. The rest he'd have to play by ear.
He rounded the curve climbing the hill, a loose, carnal smile expanding his thin-lipped mouth. He was thinking of those long shapely legs wrapped tight around him as he shoved his cock deep into her and fucked her within an inch of her life. Damn her, he'd show her what a piece of ass was. She'd never forget it as long as she lived. Hell, his prick was as hard as a fence rail right now just thinking about it, and his mouth had gone dry, while small beads of sweat began forming on his brow... then, he was swinging into the circle drive that fronted the mansion beneath the tall, gnarled oak bees, and he said aloud to himself: "Jus' a few more hours, teacher, an' ol' Drake's gonna make yuh beg 'n' beg . .."
Betty walked the short distance to the little house on Maple Street in a semi-stupor. Her head throbbed viciously and her stomach churned with increased nausea. She still could not conceive of such gross foulness as that which had come out of the mouths of those young hoodlums. Yet, as she remembered, the blond one behind the wheel looked to be anything but a rowdy. She had caught only glances at them through her peripheral vision, but that had been enough to see he was a handsome boy and well-dressed in contrast to the others. He was undoubtedly a college student, but she doubted that the rest were much of anything except, perhaps, dropouts.
Why they had chosen her to unleash their vulgarities on, she couldn't imagine. One of them had called her teacher, too. How would they know that? Could news circulate that fast in this town? Impossible. Maybe it was just a word with another dirty connotation she wasn't familiar with. God, at the rate she was going, there wouldn't be much in the world of repulsive lewdness that she was unf a-miliar with.
The entire picture since her arrival here had done nothing but sicken her. She doubted that she had ever been so disappointed in her life. Memory of the deplorable condition of the little school flooded her mind, and her disappointment gave way to disgust. Then, the shock she had received when Mr. Bixbee told her about the raping of the teachers, caused her disgust to bend with a twinge of fear. Now, this latest episode right on the main street of down-town... and the loathing repugnance overcame her once more.
She climbed the steps and entered the living-room to see the slovenly hulk of Birt Olander sprawled in a chair before a small-screened TV set, a can of beer in his hand.
"Found your way all right, I see," he said, looking up and showing yellow teeth, his red-rimmed eyes beginning to strip her immediately.
"Yes, no problem at all."
"I put yer things in your room," he said, running his tongue around his wormlike hps. " 'S the one in the middle... next tuh the toilet. Winnie's gone tuh the store. Yuh want anythin' jus' call me. Glad tuh help yuh any time."
Betty sensed her skin crawling beneath his hot, lecherous eyes. She tried to smile, felt that she'd failed miserably at it, and crossed the room toward the stairs mumbling: "Thank you. I won't need anything..."
"Hey."
She paused, half turning.
"Wha's a pretty girl like you wanna come here tuh teach school for?"
"Because I'm needed... and because I want to help."
"Needed, eh?" He licked at his hps again. "Yuh gonna be out in Bolt?" "Yes."
"Know what it's like out there?"
"I've been enlightened," she replied curtly.
"An yuh ain't afraid... I mean o' some o' them kids tryin' to get it into yuh?" he questioned, his eyes narrowing as his dirty grin reappeared.
For once, she didn't blush, nor did she answer immediately, and when she did, she said: "I have a miserable headache, Mr. Olander. I'd like to go up and lie down awhile... if you'll excuse me."
"Sure. An' call me Birt, eh? Goin' tuh the dance t'night?"
"Yes. Mr. and Mrs. Bixbee are coming for me at eight."
Birt Olander nodded. "Good," he said. "How 'bout savin' one for me?"
She started to say something to the effect that she never promised dances, the idea of him being that close to her repusling her instantly, but she quickly thought better of it and replied: "Of course. I hope to meet and dance with everyone."
"I'll be lookin' forward to it," he said, tilting his can of beer to his mouth and never taking his eyes from her.
Betty turned away and climbed the stairs. She found her room off the narrow hall, a small affair with slanted ceiling and typical flowered, papered walls. It contained a sagging bed covered with a patch-quilt, a small chest of drawers with a mirror tacked on the wall above it, and one straight-backed chair. There were no pictures, and the shade on the bedside lamp was soiled and torn. A quick glance at the closet told her she would have to keep some of her things in her valises. She walked to the window and looked out over a shabby, unkept backyard, cluttered with old wood, trash cans and other debree. In all, it was a very morbid scene, and abruptly she spun about to throw herself across the bed, unable to hold back her tears any longer.
Oh God! What was she doing in this forsaken place? Gordon was right. She never should've come. What ever had made her think she was cut out for the discouraging hardships of a backwoods school teacher, she'd never understand. Silly, noble ideals! Stupid pride and childish determination! Darling Gordon, why didn't you make me listen to you? Why didn't I let you go all the way last night, the way you wanted? Oh, God... She was so miserable.
And then, that phase of her letdown passed, and she lay quietly staring at the flowered pattern on the wall, realization that she could not give up... at least, not yet, without making a strong effort, slowly drifting back to her. She'd never be able to live with herself should she give up now. After all, nothing was as bleak as she was letting herself come to beheve. Mr. Bixbee was having the school cleaned up for her; and she mustn't forget that the authorities were convinced that her predecessors were to blame for the alleged assaults; nor that all boys were like the hoodlums who had insulted her the blond one, she remembered, had not said one word to her. No, he was not of their ilk; she was convinced of that.
She was going to be all right now. A good cry helped. It was this damned nervous-tension head-dache... and with a nap it would pass as always. Tonight, she must be at ther best to make the proper school-marm impression... wear her green-jersey dress... cute... not too short or stylish... good impression... blond boy . . handsome... Gordon...
She slept.
Chapter 1
When Betty awakened, she felt like a new person. Her headache had left her, along with the host of misgivings she had foolishly let get the better of her. Sleep, for her, she thought, had always been the greatest of medication, regardless of the affliction. She hopped from the bed, undressed, slipping into her robe and went for her bath.
Later, when she was nearly dressed, Winnie Olander called her down for a "bit of supper," a rather skimpy, flat-tasting spread, but Betty had eaten ravenously. She hadn't realized she was so hungry.
The mousy little woman had begun immediately, and all through the meal, kept up a constant barrage of incessant questions pertaining to Betty's background, while Birt Olander slobbered and gulped at his food, his licentious, bloodshot eyes continuously raking her body. Nor did his obvious lust go unnoticed by his wife, and several times Betty looked over to see the woman glaring angrily at him. And quickly as she could, she excused herself and went back upstairs to finish dressing for the dance, her mind made up right then to Watch them as much as possible and as soon as possible. Punctually at eight, Eustace Bixbee called for her, presenting his round-faced, chunky wife with an air of servitude that Betty found almost comical. Gladys Bixbee stood at least a foot taller than her husband, was somewhere in her mid-fifties, wore her coarse, greying-black hair in a ridiculous shingled styling, and a thick layer of cheap makeup to help hide the age-lines about the eyes and the sagging flesh of her chins. Her small, wet, dark eyes bore an uncomfortable expression, which if the truth were known, Betty thought, was probably due to the rigid corseting endeavoring to impound the huge bulk of her middle.
"We're so pleased tuh have you with us, Miz Johnson," the woman said, appraising the young teacher critically. She glanced at her silent husband. "Eustace's description didn't quite do yuh justice. You seem so young... as if yuh should be in school yourself."
Her wet eyes roamed over Betty. There was no direct hostility in them, simply a cold, analytical penetration. Betty felt extremely uncomfortable.
"Well, shall we go?" Eustace Bixbee said, clearing his throat nervously. "I'd like to introduce Miss Johnson around before the dancing starts."
Gladys Bixbee made a grunting sound that Betty could tack no meaning to. Then, they filed out with the Olanders joining them for the ride across town to the church. Enroute, Gladys Bixbee informed Betty that the Summerend Dance was an annual affair in Wilksbrake, an event that had been at one time a very gala occasion, before the mines had closed and the area had become so poverty stricken. Now, although it was still held, its social distinction had long since faced, the crowd more rowdyish, and the last few years they had even begun square-dancing.
" 'Riginally," Gladys Bixbee went on, " 'twas a formal 'fair, 'n' such a thing as square-dancin' was unheard of. But, like everythin' else, it's degenerated into a gatherin' of riff raff."
"I love to square-dance," said Betty. "At home, when I was younger, we used to go to all the country dances."
"Really," Gladys Bixbee said through her nose, lifting that parrotlike feature an inch or so. "Well, I come from Charleston where everythin' was quite conventional 'n' lovely. We never 'dulged in the more folksy carrin's on in my circle."
Eustace Bixbee cleared his throat and looked at his wife in what Betty thought was amusement. He said nothing, and then they were there.
Already, the parking area was lined with older cars and trucks, and she could hear music coming from the basement of the rather large, white framed church with its wooden steeple and the cross resting on top. At the door, she was introduced to the Reverend and Mrs. Doxtedder, an elderly, pleasant couple who seemed happy to meet her. Then had followed a long fine of people whose names she could not begin to remember, until she was finally made acquainted with Judge Claude Bonner, the Mayor, a large, broad-shouldered, white-haired widower in his late fifties, who had managed to keep his waist trim. a clean smile broadening his square, chisled face. "No, I haven't..."
"Then, we'll rectify that right off," he said, moving forward to slip his hand to the small of her back and pressing her onto the floor.
The four musicians on the small stage left considerable to be wished for musically, Betty thought, as she followed the big man in a simple two-step gHde, but their tempo was consistent and they were managing to keep together. The room was crowded and warm, and children who weren't attempting to struggle at dancing were scurrying everywhere. They had moved only half around the floor when someone tapped the Mayor on the shoulder and she found herself dancing v/ith Arnold Bragg, the Town Clerk whom she had already met. From then on began the long line of cut-ins, along with Birt Olander who tried to press his huge bulk against her, until she was certain she could actually feel the bulge in the front of his pants pushing into her abdomen.
"Please," she said, endeavoring to loosen his hold on her. "It's so warm in here..."
"What's a matter? Don't like my dancin'?" he grinned down at her, refusing to give an inch.
"You're holding me too tight," Betty tried reaching behind her and grabbing at his thick, hairy wrist, but that too was useless. He continued to clutch her to him and she was certain she felt him commencing to throb against her stomach.
"Please, Mr. Olander? People are beginning to look at us..."
Piss on 'em," he hissed, his breathing growing heavy as the pulsating of his huge, rock-hard penis beat hotly into the soft flesh of her belly.
And it was at that moment, when she was just about to insist he let her go even if it caused a scene, that the young blond boy approached and tapped her obnoxious partner on the shoulder.
"Whadda yuh want?" Birt Olander growled at him.
"Tuh cut in, whadda yuh think?" the blond boy replied cockily, a half-grin on his handsome face. He was as tall as Birt Olander and broader in the proper places. He wore a dark suit over a biege turtle-neck sweater, and there was a look of roisterness in his pale-blue eyes that indicated he didn't intend to be denied.
Reluctantly, Birt Olander took his arm from about her waist and with a grunt, walked away. Immediately, the young man stepped in to take his place, offering her his haughty but charming smile. He manuevered them gracefully to the center of the floor, holding her with loose but firm confidence.
"Reckon you needed a li'l help jus' 'bout then," he said, looking down into her face and she smelled the odor of beer on his breath.
"Yes... I owe you a thank you for that," she replied, returning his gaze. "But I owe you something else for that disgusting performance on the street today."
"Ma'm, I'm terrible sorry bout that," he said, his face sobering quickly. "I sure don' know what got inna them fellas. Guess they jus' ain't use to pretty gal as you. I su was 'shamed o' the way they talked at yuh. I tell yuh, ma'm, I kicked 'em right outta my car after that, I was so all-fired mad."
"I should think you would have," Betty said, pleased that she had not misjudged him, and more than a little surprised at his poor, accented grammar. "Are you from Wilksbrake?"
"Sure am, ma'm. Bom here. You was jus' dancin' with my paw, Judge Bonner." He grinned. "I'm Drake."
"Well, I'm pleased to meet you, Drake. I'm Betty Johnson. I'm going to be teaching out at Bolt."
"Yeah, ' figured's much," he replied, suddenly swinging into a clever little step that she followed easily. She loved to dance, but Gordon had never learned, which had limited her considerably the last year. Drake smiled at her again. "Say, yuh look hot 'n' thirsty. How T)out a glass o' punch?"
"I'd like that," she agreed, and he led her by the hand to the back of the hall where a large metal urn sat on a table with short stacks of paper cups beside it. While he filled two, she glanced around the room to see what had happened to Birt Olander. She could still feel the impression of his long, hot thing jammed against her, jumping as if it had a life of its own separate from his. She wondered, had anyone noticed? An incident of this kind would be all that was necessary to ruin her reputation quickly in the community. She shuddered as she thought of it again. She would have to be on her guard every minute as long as she stayed in that house. She'd find herself another place as soon as possible...
"Here yuh be," Drake said, handing her a cup of the purplish liquid.
"Oh . .. thank you," she replied, taking it and lifting it to her lips. She was thirsty, and mmmmm, it was good.
"They're gettin' ready for a square-dance," Drake said, as she emptied her cup. "Let's have nother fast one 'n' join 'em."
"All right," said Betty, smiling. "It's been some time since I've done it... I may have forgotten some of the calls .. ."
"Heck, it'll come back tuh yuh, once yuh start," he said, handing her a refilled cup of the punch. "Drink that up 'n' we'll give 'er a go."
So, she danced and danced with him, and he swung her in the true country fashion, lifting her right off the floor as if she were a doll in his strong, young arms, until her face was flushed and her head swam dizzily to the frenzied music of the fiddler and the exciting commands of the caller. And in between, they retreated to the punch table, gulping the refreshing ade down in quantity, until it suddenly occurred to her that the drink had achieved an additional tang... that someone had spiked it. And even though she refused any more, it was during the very next dance with Arnold Bragg that she suddenly began to feel dizzy and a need for fresh air.
Somehow, she managed to finish the set, excuse herself, and walk outside, wiping the perspiration from her forehead and drawing in deep breaths of the cool, pine ].vuiucd air as she moved between the parked autos so that she would not be seen. Lord, this was a fine thing to let happen, she thought. What would they think if they knew she was half drunk? She'd had no idea that punch was spiked so strongly.
Her head still swam and she walked quietly, sucking the clean air into her lungs and making a strong effort to focus her eyes. Then, she paused. A sound had come from the car in front of her on the right. Voices. Probably a couple of spooners. She'd just pass them by. She took several more steps that brought her up behind the vehicle and heard a man's voice say: "Who 'n' the hell ever taught yuh tuh make love like that?"
The answer was a feminine gasp and an exclamation of: "Ohhh, do that agin; it's beautiful! Don stop... don' stop!"
Betty's breath caught in her throat. There was a moon and from its Hght showing through the open side-window she distinguished their half-nude bodies locked in a sensual embrace of lovemaking that caused her to freeze in shock. The girl was lying on her back with her legs raised high in the air, and now the man was sliding down in the seat until his head was between her thighs, his face even with her open loins; then she heard the girl murmuring words, words broken and swallowed and spat with her passion, and she found herself Hstening, unable to move now for fear of being detected.
Betty could not beheve her eyes and ears. A tightening sensation had caught at the pit of her stomach and she bfinked her eyes that were hazy from the drink, trying to bring them into proper focus to assure herseH she was actually seeing correctly. The girl had clutched at the hair of his head with both hands and was desperately grinding her pelvis up against his face. Momentarily, Betty thought she saw his tongue lash out snake-like and disappear into the soft, hair-lined sht of the girl's vagina, then Httle mewling sounds began to emit from her.
The horribly swinish scene was beyond befief, and Betty took a step backwards as if she had been struck by a blow. She tried to clear her head, to think straight, the near overpowering thought that she should somehow intervene and put an end to their wanton exhibition fumbling in her brain. Should she scream, or reach in and tear them apart? My God, she'd never witnessed such a spectacle of sheer, unadulterated lust...
No, no... it wasn't her affair, she rationafized finally, and something within began advising her she should turn away and try to leave without them hearing her, but the salacious sight and sounds had temporarily hypnotized her. She had never imagined what it would be Hke watching two people making love, and suddenly found it affected her in a way she had never dreamed. Instead of absolute revulsion, she now felt a strange, Hght-fingered quivering deep between her own thighs, and then the man was wagging and bobbing his head furiously, causing vile, wet sucking noises between the girl's wide-flung thighs.
"Aaaaaaggghhh," the girl groaned, raising a rash of goose bumps that rippled across Betty's flesh and up to her full breasts, now beginning to rise and fall heavily, making the nipples distend against the sheer netting of her bra. She could see his tongue once more, working animal-like in slobbering subjugation at the wide-spread tightness of the girl's cunt, and she could see the contortions of her face above the white mounds of her breasts. Suddenly, he was bringing his hand down into the furrow separating her buttocks and she jerked her legs high, until her kneecaps were touching her breasts, exposing the whole flat plane of her crotch to him. He flicked his tongue into the tight little puckered hole of her anus, and Betty stared as if mesmerized by the sight, as a long low moan escaped the girl and she clenched her eyes tightly shut, her hps baring back over her teeth at the obvious sensation it sent racing out of control through her body.
"Ooooooooohhh, don' stop, don' stop!" she whined, writhing her hips furiously at the hot, flicking tongue licking without mercy between the open cheeks of her upraised buttocks. "Shove your finger in there! Yes, like that! Harder! Oh yes, stick it in my asshole!"
Betty hardly dared to breathe now, the rasping escaping her own throat and lungs had become so loud. Her mouth was hot and dry and the prurient sensation between her thighs caused her to clamp thnm tightly tugfcthor, making her own wetness apparent to her. Unconsciously, she reached down and stroked her pubic mound sensuously. Never before in her life had she experienced such a repulsive sense of fascination. The revolting sight and obscene sounds held her spellbound. Her breasts had commenced to throb with desire of their own. She found herself thinking of Gordon the night before, when she had held his thick cock in her hands and he had licked her cunt, and now she almost wished she had allowed him to fuck her. She knew if he were here right now... right now at this moment.. . "I'm cumin'... cumin...! Jesus Christ, I'm cumin .. .I cummming " the girl half-screamed, finally crooning off into a weird little wail as she choked and spluttered.
Then, the man lowered her legs and was raising himself up over her to kneel in front of the girl's face with his knees straddling her body on either side. His long, rigid cock stood out in the air like a massive flesh pole. He had his hand around it, rubbing the glistening head softly against her hps. She saw the girl's face come forward eagerly as the man thrust his hips at her, sliding the huge head deep within the confines of her warm, wet mouth as he tangled his fingers in her hair and she began a gentle sucking motion.
Betty could see dimly the tiny ridges of soft pink flesh pulling from her ovaled hps as he drew back and then disappeared inside once again, sliding the rock-hard weapon into her sucking cavity. She watched, transfixed, as he commenced a rhythmic sawing, back and forth, never quite drawing it out all the way, but leaving its tip just inside the warm moistness of her mouth. Then, the girl was reaching up between his wide-spread thighs, cradling the softness of his testicles in her palms, just as she had done with Gordon's last night. She stroked them gently as she sucked voraciously at his now ramming cock, and in the soft moonlight it appeared to Betty as a thick, wet, glistening piston of flesh, moving methodically in and out of her hungrily-nibbling lips. Again, Betty caught the little mewls and groans of pleasure...
Abruptly, an electric-like jolt shot through Betty and she nearly cried out her alarm as she felt a pair of hands slipping around her from behind and curling over her breasts.
"Shhhh, they'll hear yuh," the voice of Drake Bonner whispered into her ear as he drew ner back against him, pressing his already hardening penis into the crevice between her buttocks.
"Quite a show, ain't it?" he continued to whisper, his warm breath hot in her ear. "I been standin' behind yuh watchin' too. She's really suckin' him off, ain't she?"
"Y... you don't have to talk that way," Betty hissed shrilly back over her shoulder. "And take your hands off me this minute!" she ordered, trying to squirm free of his clutching fingers on her breasts, feeling once more the numbing fear rising in her body. Wild thoughts of what he might have in mind to do to her raced through her brain, and she decided that if sne could only wrench free and run... but he was not about to release his hold, 84 and then she felt him grinding his stiff member into her buttocks, pressing her skirt into the soft, quivering crevice while his hands massaged her breasts and he whispered: "Now why yuh gettin' so all fired upset? Yuh been standin' here watchin' them suckin' 'n' lickin' each other for ten minutes, an' yuh know what I think? I think yuh wish you was that girl an' had that big juicy cock right in your pretty li'l mouth."
Again, Betty tried to quietly struggle with him, her whole being filled with revulsion at the filth he was spewing into her ear, but his hands only ground harder into her breasts as did his prick against her defensively clenching buttocks.
Suddenly, the man in the car stopped, pulling his penis from the girl's mouth as he looked out the window in front of him and the one in the back of the vehicle.
"Yuh hear somethin'?" he asked the girl, still craning his neck, while Drake, holding tight to Betty's breasts, eased them further back into the shadows.
"No," said the girl, "but I don't give a damn anyway. Come back here. Fuck me now, honey. Stick it in my cunt... Oh, Jesus, yes, tha's right... tha's right... ooooohhh..."
"Please," Betty begged. "Please, let me go."
But instead, he pressed her forward where she could again watch the utterly deplorable performance going on in the car, while he continued to squeeze and caress her breasts, and his palpitating cock throbbed between the cheeks of her buttocks. She was beside herself with a near uncontrollable mixture of rage, fear and abhorrence, these blended with an unfathomable smoldering lust the rutting couple and Drake Bonner's foul obscenities were enkindling within her.
"See there, honey... now he's fuckin' her," Drake whispered, and then his hand was slipping down inside the V of her dress to her naked, throbbing breast, cupping it hard as she gaped at the wet coupling of the two bodies in the car. He gave a sudden hard pinch against the soft rubbery nipple, sending a flash of pain and pleasure shooting along the full-length of her spine, and she had to clench her teeth to keep from muttering a helpless groan aloud. Then his tongue flicked moistly into her ear, causing her to squirm back against his hard, virile cock. "See that?" he continued. "She's got her long white legs wrapped right up 'round his neck now, so's her cunt's wide open an' he can fuck that cock up into her belly 'till she can damn near taste it!"
"Oh God, please don't," she pleaded, tears bubbling into her eyes. He had her in a position where she couldn't fight back and he knew it. If she resisted too strongly they were bound to overhear in the car, and she would be discovered out there like this with him. And that would be all that was necessary to end her teaching career in Wilksbrake. Good Lord, why had she come out here...?
Then, the figures in the auto were still for a moment and Betty was certain they had been discovered. It was as if her blood turned to ice-water for that brief, panic-filled interval, then she saw the man begin a slow rocking motion over the impaled girl below him. Once more, her eyes riveted themselves upon them, and she saw the man withdraw slightly, the thick, fleshy column sliding out for several inches, then he thrust forward again holding it there. He withdrew again until the underside of the head, wet and glistening, was visible to the hypnotized Betty.
Her mouth dropped open in disbelief as she watched the girl's long legs come down to wrap around his hips, her heels tight against the cheeks of his ass, straining to pull him back inside her. The cords on the inside of her thighs flexed tightly as she pushed her soft down-covered pussy back up over his glistening prick. Her hollowing buttocks lifted several inches off the seat as she struggled upward desperately trying to absorb the entirety of the massive cock back into the fleshy pink folds of her hungry cunt. A wet vicious sound drifted out to them as she slithered up its full length. Her flexing buttocks began a rhythmic beat up and down the long smooth pole, the soft hairy balls slapping in tempo against the faintly puckered little anus below.
The girl was mouthing obscenities at the man as she squirmed lewdly in the throes of passion beneath him, and the exciting tingle darted menacingly between her own full thighs once more. Now, she watched completely absorbed, as the man's hand curled beneath the girl's pumping buttocks and the tip of the middle finger circled tantalizingly the puckered ring of the tightly puckered anus. It played there for a long teasing moment, then suddenly brought a tortured groan from the twisting body beneath, as it slipped through the protective fleshy ring and disappeared inside. Legs kicked out again, another tormented squeal with toes curling, and then the legs locked once more, pumping viciously against both probing instruments...
Suddenly, Betty's own body stiffened as she felt Drake's free hand sliding down over her stomach, down... down... to gently apply pressure at the mound of her pelvis while the alcohol she had unwittingly drunk coursed lazily through her bloodstream, intensifying the sudden unchecked sensations beginning to surge through her against her will. She clinched her eyes shut, fighting against it with all her strength, but the soft fingers of his hand nipping teasingly at her nipple and the hardness of his prick grinding into the cleft of her buttocks brought forth soft moans of near helpless submission to her lips.
"Goddamn, you're luscious," he hissed into her ear. "You'd make that cunt in the car look Hke a hag. An' jus' look at the beautiful fuck she's gettin'."
"Ooohh, don't, don't, don't, please..." Betty whimpered as she felt the lewd, dehcious feeHngs rippling across her skin. "N... no one has ever done it to me... not even my fiance."
"Damn! A virgin too...," he whispered wetly into her ear, his fingers beginning to gather up the hem of her dress. "There's gotta be a first time fer everythin', honey."
"Oh, God, no... don't do that! Don't touch me thoivl You ntostuti" she sobbed, conscious now of the heavy groans coming from the auto. She moaned and tried again to pull away, using all of her willpower to overcome the myriad of strange sensations building up against her will deep in her belly.
Then, she gasped and held her breath as she felt the hem of her dress reach the top of her thighs letting the cool night air rush against them, and his fingers suddenly coming in hot searing contact with the softness of her naked flesh. A ravishing shock rippled along the flesh of her legs as she felt him sHpping a finger slowly under the tight elastic leg-band of her panties. She squirmed back against him, one hand trying to push him away while the other clung atop the hand inside her dress squeezing her breast, but he was not to be denied and she whimpered helplessly as his fingertip found the narrow sensitive sfit of her vagina and gently thrust into it, parting the soft pubic hair and making sudden delicious contact with the throbbing tiny head of her chtoris. It was wet and sHppery from the unwanted desire permeating her whole being, and she sucked in her breath tightly to hold back the groan of pleasure she felt building deep in her chest.
Dear God! There was nothing she could do and the tears of humiliation cascaded warmly down her cheeks, as in her horror she found herself reacting involuntarily to the maddening caresses of her breast and vagina. She was excessively wet between her legs and found her hips suddenly squirming in unintentional rhythm to the Hght teasing of his finger rummaging between her thighs.
"Yuh know yuh want it, honey," he breathed into her ear hotly. "My nice smooth cock slippin' inna that tight cunt o' yourn. Now yuh jus' tell me yuh want ol' Drake to fuck yuh good 'n' proper. Come on, baby, tell me how yuh wanna suck my prick..."
It snapped then, that spontaneous bursting in her head that crashed reality down over her with a shattering force, but how she had broken away from him she would never know for sure. She remembered jamming the pointed heel of her shoe against his instep, and his leaping back away from her with a howl that brought reaction from the couple in the car, as she raced breathlessly along the aisle between the parked vehicles toward the door of the church.
Eustace Bixbee was engaged in conversation with a group of parents when Betty located him. She didn't interrupt, but stood off at a distance until he finally looked her way and caught the expression of anxiety on her face, immediately coming over. She prayed that her appearance was not too disheveled, betraying the frustration she was still experiencing from the shocking episode she had just gone through.
"Miss Johnson, what's wrong?" the little man questioned nasally, his spectacle magnified eyes bugging as they searched her distraught features.
"I... I'm not feeling well Mr. Bixbee. I'd like to leave as soon as possible."
"O dear," he said, almost apologetically. "Mrs. Bixbee wasn't feeling well either and took my car to get home. She thought it was the punch. Perhaps that's what upset you too, Miss Johnson."
"Yes... perhaps that's it," Betty agreed, glancing anxiously toward the doorway as Drake Bonner entered.
"Well now, you just stay right here and I'll find us a ride home," the Principal advised, looking around him with jerky movements, as if to determine who he might ask for the lift.
Betty moved back to the wall where a row ]A empty chairs were lined and sat down heavily. God, she never wanted to face Drake Bonner again... not after what had happened out there. And it was her own fault as much as his. What had ever gotten into her to let him go as far as he had? She could have broken free before she did, had she really wanted to. The fact of the matter was that she had been completely and wantonly entranced by the sight of the two making love in the car and the ugly but delicious sensations Drake Bonner had sent coursing through her helplessly trapped body.
God, she was so ashamed. How could she ever face Gordon with that grievous offense blotting her conscience. He would never forgive her; she was certain of that. He was too proud and sensitive. She would have to keep it from him, bury it inside her and try to forget. A woman could forgive a man for an indescretion, but a man could never absolve a woman, no matter how unfair it was. Then, once more, the fresh memory of all that had transpired out there trickled through her mind reviving the sudden twitch between her thighs, until she was forced to squeeze them tightly together in an effort to end the maddening sensation.
She was squirming her bottom against the hard leather surface of the chair when she saw Mr. Bixbee approaching with the half-grinning Drake Bonner, and once again she felt a lumpy driness in her throat.
"Drake is going to drop us both off, Miss Johnson," the little man said with an appreciative smile. "If you're ready . .. ?"
"Well... I... wouldn't want to put him out. . ." She stuttered, fighting down her desire to scream and run.
"No trouble 'tall, ma'm. I was jus' leavin' myself," Drake said amiably.
"It's right on his way," Mr. Bixbee put in.
Betty said nothing, only stood, carefully avoiding the young man's eyes.
"Always glad t' help out," he said, and without looking at him Betty knew he was wearing that cocky smirk.
"It's real nice of you, Drake," Eustace Bixbee praised, leading them across the room, nodding and bidding good-nights at random, at last, stepping out into the cool night air.
Betty had insisted on riding in back, there being room for only two comfortably in the bucket-seats, and the fresh crisp air was like a soothing balm to her, rushing past her face and blowing her hair. She was glad the top was down for the racing breeze was serving also to seep her head clear of the flowing tide of passion that had so uncontrollably crept over her a few minutes back. And by the time they had dropped Mr. Bixbee off, she had regained her self, feeling in complete command once more.
However, she was not pleased that Drake had chosen to take her home last, but there seemed little she could say about it when he casually pointed out that the Olander's house was right on his own way to Binner Hill. over his shoulder as they moved along the quiet streets.
"Thank you, I'm fine," she replied crisply, trying to place their position from her general knowledge of the town. "Besides, the Glanders can only be a few blocks from here."
"Tha's right," he replied. "Jus' a few blocks. Ustebe said yuh wasn't feelin' good... somethin' 'bout the punch." She heard him snicker to himself. "'Pears t' me yuh were feelin' mighty good when we were watchin' them two fuckin' hke a couple o' hogs in heat."
Betty felt her face flush instantly at the vile sound of the foul obscenity he mouthed so casually, "if you're going to start talking Hke that again you can let me out right here," she snapped at him, setting upright in the seat.
"Wha's a matter, honey?" he teased, and she could see his twisted, handsome smile in the rear-view mirror, looking back at her. "Your pride all shook 'cause yuh found out yuh Hked that fingerin I was givin' that tight Httle pussy o' yourn back there?"
Betty stiffened at his reference, sensing her confidence of a few moments before commencing to falter, and in spite of herself, she could feel tiny butterfly-fike sensations flitting suddenly through her stomach. She bHnked her eyes shut tightly, trying not to succumb to the still smoldering embers of the fire he had Hghted within her in the parking lot. It was then that she realized the effects of the spiked punch were still with her.
"I think what we both need is a nice H'l ride in the country," he was saying, and it suddenly occurred to her they had already left the Hghts of Wilksbrake behind them, and were driving rapidly along a desolate, tree-lined road without a sign of a house anywhere.
"W-Where are you going?" she questioned anxiously, rising fear causing her voice to go shrill. "Now Hsten to me, Drake Bonner. I demand you take me home this minute, you hear? How dare you bring me out here? I'll... Ill..."
"Yeah?" he taunted, craning his neck to see she had moved up to the edge of the seat. "You was sayin. . . r The tears seemed to spurt from her eyes. "Oh God," she moaned. "Please take me home? Please?"
"Sure, I'm gonna take yuh home, honey," he assured her, the suggestive overtones in his voice causing near panic to seize her. "Right after you 'n' me get all tangled up, jus' like that couple back in the car. 'Cause I'm gonna fuck you Hke you ain't ever gonna get it ag'in."
"O please, please, Drake. Don't force me to do it. Dear Godl I'll do anything... give you money... anything, only please take me home?"
She heard him chuckle and suddenly they were turning off the road onto a narrow two-rutted lane, the car lurching and groaning as he gunned it, then swung to the right until they were nosed into a small clearing, completely surrounded with brush .. . and he cut the engine and lights.
Overcome with dreadful apprehension, Betty knows what he wants. She saw him by the moonlight, saw him raise up to his knees and then one leg came over the back of the seat toward her.
"Dear God, no... no!" she begged, holding out one hand at arm's length as if to ward him off, and he dropped onto the seat beside her, his hand reaching over to take the one she had extended.
"No call for yuh t' get all upset like this, baby," he said softly. "I ain't gonna hurt yuh. Why, a good fuck never hurt any gal..."
"No, no, please! Please stop talking like that. I told you no one has ever done it to me before. My God! I'm engaged to be married! You can't make me do it, you just can't...!"
"Sure, I can, honey," he said, moving closer, his arms encircling her to draw her to him. "An' yuh know what? I jus' betcha that boyfriend o' yourn'll be grateful to me for showin' yuh all the tricks, eh? Why, honey, there's nothin' worse'n a virgin wife who don' know how t' throw a good fuck, or suck a cock..."
Wild thoughts of jumping out of the car and running into the darkness seized Betty, but where would she run to. In which direction? My God, if she got lost out here in these vast woods, they might never find her! And then, he was drawing her to him, disregarding her hands against his chest, his powerful young arms crushing her to him as his hot mouth came down in search of hers, finding it and pressing his lips wetly to hers in a tight, grinding manner. She groaned and struggled feebly for a sudden panicky moment, feeling his hand pressed hard in the softness of her breast.
Futilely, she allowed herself to go hmp, surprised at the softness of his lips against her own, and once more the little butterfly-like sensations fluttered through her stomach.
"There now, 'twasn't so bad was it?" he partially whispered as his hand continued to stroke her breast outside her dress. "Jus' yuh let yourself go a li'l, like the gal back in the car when that hungry bastard was lickin' her cunt. 'Member how she wiggled 'n' groaned, pullin' her legs way back an' shovin' her crotch up inna his face so's he could run his tongue right up through her slit 'n' tickle her li'l bud?"
Betty moaned in desperation. She couldn't fight him. He was too strong for her and now her own body was beginning to betray her. The effects of the drink had caused it to turn into a loose bundle of raw nerve-ends, as always, and her mind was rapidly losing control over it. To plead any more, she knew was useless, and now she made no effort toward stopping him as he slipped his hand inside the V of her dress for the second time that night, cupping her naked breasts and sending tiny licking flames of passion over her flesh. Small pinpricks of delicious feeling raced through the tip of the pliant globular mound as he rolled the hardening nipple maddeningly between his thumb and forefinger. She felt the heat of his breath rushing against her ear, then he was moving his head to bring his lips down to lock wetly upon hers. Subconsciously, she thrust her tongue forward sharply his rnouth. Oh God... his kisses were Hke hot, burning fire to her!
He eased his head away and whispered: "Le's take off our clothes."
Abruptly, realization of what she was doing struck her, and again she thought of breaking away and running .. . running... running .. . but she doubted now that her legs would even carry her!
"Come on," he said, letting free of her to sit up and begin removing his own.
Weakly, she rolled her head back and forth in hmp protest, and then when he was naked to the waist, he moved toward her again, his arm embracing her as her hand went flat against his warm, muscular chest, the soft patch of silk-like hair tickling her palm, and then his mouth was glued to hers once more, his tongue sliding between her hps, past the barrier of her small white teeth, and she found herself sucking at it and warring with it by thrusting and jabbing with her own. Unconsciously, she let her hand slide to his breast, her fingertips raking the tiny nipple, then squeezing and rolling it as he had done to her.
She felt his hand tracing up the soft, hot flesh of her inner thighs, pushing her dress back with it and letting the brisk night air caress them, and momentarily her breath caught in her throat as his fingers slid gently inside the elastic leg band of her panties, parting the sensitive hps of her vagina once more to tenderly slip into its hot wetness and find the soft, inner lips that enshrined her clitoris.
The moment, that visions of Gordon loomed up in her brain, as if he were somehow standing there staring down at them, a contemptuous sneer of hatred contorting his thin, handsome face... and she froze, finally coming to life to squirm and struggle with renewed strength as she tried to rake her finger-nails into the flesh of his chest.
"Damn you! Goddamn you!" Drake Bonner snarled, lurching backward to get beyond the reach of her razorlike claws. "What 'n hell got inna yuh, anyway?"
"Get away from me! Don't touch me!" she was half shrieking. "You... you animal... !"
He reached out, catching her wrists and holding them fast, throwing his weight on top of her and almost crushing her with his powerful body, until she could move not a muscle.
"A' right, yuh bitch! Yuh wanna do it the hard way, tha's the way we'll do it!" he growled, reaching down between them to hook his fingers into the wispy material of her panties and rip them away with one vicious jerk. "I was gonna make it nice for yuh... but now I'm gonna fuck yuh hke a stallion, 'n' yuh can scream all yuh friggin' please. No one'll hear yuh out here!"
"Oh God, no! I'm sorry... I'm sorry! Please don't do it to me!" she pleaded, hot tears streaming down her cheeks as he grabbed her roughly, dragging her down into the seat, shoving her dress up over her hips and around her waist, the full ripeness of her voluptuous thighs, the soft pubic hair covering her loins and the flatness of her whitened belly visible to him, and then she felt him fumbling with his pants and saw them slide away down his lean hips and she caught a glimpse of his thick, hard prick in his hand; finally, he was forcing his way between her legs, spreading her thighs unmercifully as he guided his member forward, shoving her legs behind the knees roughly to raise them high, as he used the thick, rubbery head of his cock to part the full fleshy Hps of her cunt.
She tossed her head wildly, closing her eyes with a shudder of horror as she felt its soft electrical contact against the sensitive, ragged edges of her involuntarily flowing pussy. She held her breath for what seemed to be an eternity, petrified in utter subjugation under him.
"Oooohh, dear God," she gasped as she felt the first hard pressure against the tight elastic opening of her vaginal lips.
He pushed.
"Aaaagh," she cried out as the tip slipped through, stretching cruelly the tight resilient passage, until she felt as though her thighs were splitting apart from the almost unbearable pressure.
"Ooohhh God, no, please, you're hurting me! You're hurting me!" She was suddenly screaming almost at the top of her voice as she jerked her eyes open in terror and saw the evil, sadistic grin above her, his teeth flashing weirdly in the moonlight. Dear God, he was killing her, and he was revelling in it. He was relishing the sight of her suffering beneath the cruelty of his slow, relentless penetration of her helplessly exposed cunt.
Then, the grin twisting his face gave way to a contorted grimace of sheer, raw lust, as if he could l.-arely stand it any longer, this debauched sight of her helpless, innocent and utterly exposed beneath him, with the head of his young, mighty cock disappearing into the hair of her tight pussy.
"Jeez!" he blurted. "I've gotta fuck yuh! I gotta... an' quick!"
He came down heavily upon her, his weight crushing her still brassiere-encased breasts against her chest. He thrust his hips forward with the same motion, sending his long sleek cock sliding into her cunt with a roaring fury, pushing the soft, moist flesh of her vaginal walls in pressured waves before it. There was no stopping him, until with a loud groan his balls slapped heavily into the upturned cheeks of her tightly clenched ass.
"Oh God! Oh God!" she wailed beneath him. She had never been entered before by anything larger than a finger, and that her darling, Gordon's . . and now she was so filled! Her passage felt as if his plunging cock had ripped it into a thousand tiny shreds. He had speared into her without mercy or thought of injury, the chunky knob of his prick ripping away her hymen as if it were tissue paper, and now his shaft lay sunk deep in her belly, filling every part of her insides. It was as if a white hot pole of living fire had been rammed into her, and there wasn't one tiny ridge of its flesh that she could not feel as it pressed tight against the soft, tender walls of her cunt, a thundering weapon enclosed in the moist, warm sheath like a lance driven deep into a cowering victim's entrails.
He lay unmoving for a moment, his face directly above hers. She too remained immobile, afraid to stir for fear of the agony it would cause. Silence, except for their labored breathing, hung between them for a long interval, and then, suddenly, she felt a throb from deep inside, the breadth and length of his virile cock jerking up into her another half-inch as he flexed it within her vagina.
"Auuuuugh!" she grunted breathlessly, her face twisting with the shooting pain.
"Tha's a right tight li'l pussy, baby, but I'm gonna really spread it out for you 'n' your boyfriend," he taunted, flexing once more.
"Aaaagggghh," she groaned deeper this time, the cords in her neck standing out from the pressure of her resistance.
"Like it, yet?" he grinned down at her in brutish delight at the agonized expression on her face.
She didn't answer, only rolled her head in pain.
"I asked yuh a question, yuh stuck-up bitch," he hissed, flexing again.
"Oooohh, yes, yes," she cried, afraid now to offend him lest he do something even more cruel and degrading to her.
"Beg then," he snarled with contemptuous coldness.
"Wh .. . what?" she managed, again tossing her head from side to side. "I... I don't know what you mean . .."
"Beg me for it," he sneered down at her.
"Ooohh, no, no, I can't," she cried, her eyes pleading with him.
"Beg me tuh fuck yuh, damn yuh! Now!" He *J'.rjij;].d dii mu-yAvv cudgel down deep into her quivering belly once more.
"Dear Jesus! Don't! Don't! Please... have mercy! I can't, I can't." She fought with all her strength and courage to escape the depraved humiliation he was trying to inflict upon her. She could not willingly surrender to him. She couldn't...!
He throbbed deeper and deeper, suddenly ripping at the V of dress and clawing the filmy bra away until her naked breasts were exposed to his clawing, squeezing hands.
"Do it!" he commanded her, inhuman fire burning in his eyes. "Beg me, yuh blonde bitch!"
"Ooooh dear God," Betty sobbed, her resistance fleeting from her in the face of the pain and helplessness of her position. "Do it to me! Do it to me...!
"Not that way. Say fuck me, Drake. Fuck me hard!"
"Oh... fuck me..." She surrendered, knowing there was no hope left.
"Finish it!" He hissed down at her straining face, unwilling to leave even a tiny spark of pride for the proud little bitch to hang on to.
"Fuck me, Drake. Fuck me hard..." she hissed through clenched teeth, tears gushing from her eyes as she spat out the lewd, obscene words, feeling at last the utter depths of her degradation. She could never face Gordon again with any measure toward innocence. She doubted that she would ever be able even to look into a mirror. He had stripped her self respect completely this night, and none of it would ever had happened had not she given in to him back at the church. What was left? Nothingl Nothing but the huge fleshy instrument buried deep inside her inflamed vagina.
She knew that he sensed the loss of her last remaining ounce of resistance, and clamping his wet mouth over hers he began a slow rocking motion between her thighs. The agony was hke tiny explosions of gun-powder inside her, searing the soft, sensitive flesh as his motion widened the tight narrow passage with each short, smooth stroke and she groaned in hopeless defeat beneath him.
And then suddenly, her body, as though it were severed from her resisting mind, commenced an involuntary reaction. Lewd flames of desire were coursing through her veins, and she no longer bore the will to fight it. She had lost the battle, and now she knew that in spite of her repugnance and horror, she was about to surrender totally to this boy lying between her open legs. The mere thought sent chills running along the base of her spine as she felt the slow rhythm of Drake Bonner's cock skewering wetly into her.
Her whole being began to twist and writhe beneath him and she groaned incessantly up into the moisture of his mouth, shoving her tongue with an abrupt abandon deep into his throat. Faint mewls of animalistic, servile acceptance raised from her chest in torrents, her face wrung with passion, mouth toiling, neck straining, nostrils flaring, a light sweat bursting out onto her forehead under the now disheveled ash-blonde hair.
She felt Drake slip his hands down over the naked curves of her hips and slide them beneath the soft, smooth moons of her moving buttocks, cupping them harshly with each hand as he began to thrust with greater frenzy.
Subconsciously, she flexed and unflexed them while he clutched his fingers tightly into the white, firm flesh. He jerked her harder to his loins and she pulled her thighs back a little more, the moist wet hole of her cunt spreading open to receive his cock to greater and greater depths.
The maddening pain was passed now, and her legs on either side of his impaling shaft of flesh were jerking and quivering in an abandon she could not control. She closed her eyes, slavering her tongue up into his mouth, low hums of velvety pleasure rumbling in her throat. She knew the cords in her neck and thighs were standing out hard and tense as she writhed under him from the fervency of her feeling. There was no longer any thought but the delicious sensation of lying beneath this boy who was fucking her against her will and giving back to him what he was giving her.
He slaved above her, moving suddenly into longer, smoother strokes that drew his cock nearly out of her clasping vagina on the backstroke, and then plunging forward into her uplifted buttocks again until she felt the harsh slap of his balls against the exposed crevice of her anus. Momentarily, she felt his fingers tracing down the tight skin of her ass, until he found the small, puckered hole cradled defenselessly below.
Once more, she experienced a shortness of breath as he penetrated it with a sudden, quick movement, feeling the soft, rubbery flesh yielding to his assault. Oh, God, it hurt and she gasped, the groan tumbling from her hps in painful protest.
He thrust harder and she saw the pleasure he was taking in hearing her sounds of subjugation.
"Oooohhh!" she cried louder, this time from the further outrage against her exposed asshole.
But he gave no quarter. He worked his finger around inside, stretching the rubbery softness wider and wider as he ground into her. She felt a second finger making its way into her tortured bottom, and the deep guttural noises coming from her chest eased into whimpers of pain, slowly subsiding to give way to greater moans of pleasure as her anus slowly became accustomed to the strange unnatural invasion.
Then, he smiled his cocky grin of triumph into her face and dropped his lips again to hers, shoving his tongue deep into her sucking mouth as she began to skewer her rectum back onto his fingers shamelessly, and he probed them methodically around the warm rubbery depth, sending new sensations of delight through her. She was hoplessly impaled, she thought helplessly, between his stone-hard throbbing cock deep in her vibrant cunt and his fingers shoved tightly in her asshole. The thought raised further moaning and mewling from her chest and she began twisting and squealing wantonly under this double ravishment of her naked, widespread loins.
Then, he had brought his hand around to where he smoothly in and out of her clasping pussy, and she felt him begin to fondle the soft hair-lined lips milking at his rampaging cock, and he continued to play there until softer groans of unrestraint formed in her throat and escaped her. Her widening vagina seemed to gape in greedy desire, swallowing the whole of his cock that he was plunging mercilessly to her very core.
Suddenly, he quickened his thrust, hot and pulsating and deep, and the tormenting agony of pleasure caused her to thrash beneath him. She felt him rip his fingers from her asshole with a wet hissing sound, their loss suddenly disconcerting her, but then he was pressing his hands under her knees, pushing them back hard, and down against the leather of the seat on either side of her shoulders, making the plane of her crotch wide open to the pile-driving pounding of his loins as he thrust brutally into her.
"Oh, oh, ooohhh," she commenced to chant beneath him, her face feeling as if it were contorted in an unrecognizable mask of wild, insane passion.
Again, he quickened his stroke, grunting and groaning, grinding hard and deep, his cock boring hard up into the hidden recesses of her womb. She was a mass of exquisite moisture at her crotch, and her loins blazed at her mind, overpowering all thought other than that of the magnificent pressure building inside her. She was vaguely aware of his hands running over her Hke searing tongues of flame, of his hps, of the hot friction of his body as he squirmed and swarmed against her. This was it! This was it! Somehow, she never thought it would ever happen tu her and onlv last night, with Gordon, she had denied herselfl Oh helll Oh damnl Why! Why...!
She panted and writhed, then heard his wailing breath. His cock was a huge, unrelenting animal, raging and hurtling into her, making her tingle from the tips of her toes to the back of her head. It was a dream... a heavenly nightmare! Oh it was beautiful... wonderful. ..!
She screamed and gasped: "Oh God! Ooooohh Christ! I'm coming! I'm cuuummmrnmiiinnnggg! Oooohhhh... " And even as she jerked and bucked against him, she felt his cock grow huge once more and begin to pump his hot, thick sperm far into her soft quivering belly, their juices mingling deep down inside in a wet pool of bliss and passion she had never dreamed could possibly exist.
At last, her legs went limp, jumping convulsively and finally falling out to the sides, splayed obscenely on either side of his still-heaving young body. Her heart pounded in her chest as though it would burst. Her body was beaten, bruised, and satiated; and then, the temporarily forgotten wave of shame and humiliation returned to her, flooding her mind, as she remembered where she was and who was lying atop of her, his thick savage penis still buried deep inside her gently palpitating vagina. Once more, tears stained her cheeks.
Well, she had been fucked, and fucked good. No longer could she claim to belong to the select few known as virgins. No longer would she have to worry about bringing it to her marriage bed for sacrifice to her husband. Husband? Who would want her now? Certainly, not Gordon. Oh God, she didn't want to think about that now. No... no... ! Maybe later when this horrible nightmare was over and done with... but not now .. not now. ..
Slowly, Drake Bonner pulled out of her, his deflated penis slipping from her vagina with a lewd, wet, sucking noise, and he collapsed beside her. She could see his cocky, spent grin in the moonlight. Suddenly, she wished to God she had something to smash into it. Her face was wet with her tears. She gaped at him.
"You bastard! Now, what would you like to do to me?" she wailed bitterly.
He continued to grin. "Take yuh home, Miz Johnson. Ain't that what yuh wanted in the first place?"
She leaped at him, giving vent to all the rage that he been building up inside her. "You filthy animal! You ignorant filthy animal!"
She was tormented inside, between the aftermath of rapture and that of guilt. She wanted to hurt. But the one word she had chosen "ignorant," had cut him to the quick.
He raised up beside her, his face a mask of terrorizing rage. She looked down between his legs and saw his cock jumping alive once more. His handsome young face was contorted almost insanely. who's ignorant!"
He came toward her and she wrenched as he climbed from the car. He pulled her back across the seat so that her knee was on the floor, the other flaunted wildly against the back of the seat, her ass exposed, her crotch open to him from the rear.
She felt hirn expand her thighs wide apart once again. She began to sob as he pushed his now stiff prick into her cunt yet again, sprawled over her, half lying atop her swaying buttocks. As his hot, meaty staff drubbed up and up and up into her forever stretched passage, he made a sexy, mirthless, gasping chuckle, which mingled with her sobs.
Betty lay awake in the half-light of dawn contemplating her future, if such she could call it. Mentally, she felt crushed; physically, she was bruised and sore, her ravaged genitals throbbing with a dull continuous ache from the merciless assault Drake Bonner had made upon them.
She had somehow gotten into the house and up to her room without waking the Olanders, dropping across the bed and falling into an exhaustive sleep of pain and debased frustration; yet, simultaneously a sated euphoria had glowed within her still trembling body making sleep possible. Later, she had awakened and undressed, forcing her brain to remain a blank, and again she had slept. Now, she lay staring at the flowered pattern on the wall in the first grey Hght of day, her mind a torment, torn between her shame and the determined commitment she had nourished so long.
At that moment, she could not conceive of ever facing anyone again. Her disgrace, she was certain, would be as conspicuous as the sun itself. Oh God, why? How had it ever come to pass? Such horror... such debasing humihation! Still, even as she thought these things, recalling the deplorable Drake Bonner, nor blame him entirely. Had she been a stronger person herself, and not allowed her own passion uncontrolled to blind her, the whole repugnant nightmare might have been averted. But that was like crying over the proverbial spilled-milk. It had happenedl It was a reality!
Her eyes puddled, but she would not let herself cry. There was a time for crying, and then there was a time for facing up to what had to be done. There was no sticking her head into a hole and playing the ostrich. Life went on, and would continue to go on all around her, and somehow, she must rise up and move with it. Should she give up now, she was certain she would never be able to live with herself, let alone bear the I-told-you-so attitudes of Gordon and her parents.
Gordon? Her wonderful, handsome Gordon... how could she ever look into his eyes again? He would know. He'd have only to gaze at her and he would know. Her guilt, her shame would be written across her face every time she looked at him.
Now, she did cry, and then she slept a little more, awakening with a start at the sunshine streaming through the window. She sat up quickly, reading the face of her clock to learn that it was seven A.M. Eustace Bixbee was to come by for her at 8:30 and drive her to Bolt... As she sat there, it suddenly dawned on her that she'd made her decision. Subconsciously, she had resolved it... perhaps even as she slept. Anyway, there was no longer a question in her mind of what she must do. Sleep, she thought, had been the necessary medication for the second time within twenty-four hours.
She was early and lay back on the pillow for a few more moments, pleased with herself at the decision she had made. It was possible that she might never see Drake Bonner again, she reasoned. Hopefully, she would not, anyway. She felt the blood rising in her cheeks as vivid memories of his virile young body and her own lustful performance drifted back to her. Truly, he had reached her before he was done. He had come at her like a conquering warrior devouring the spoils of victory. He'd been brutal and her body ached from his attack.
Now she smoothed her hands carefully up to her breasts, touching them gently in guarded exploration. She moaned aloud; they were tender. Her hands explored farther, coursing their way down over her stomach to her thighs. She groaned again, spreading them open a little way, her fingers touching tenderly the slight bruises lining the soft edges of her vagina. Her finger probed carefully around the red, sensitive opening, the tip becoming moist from his white sticky semen that still oozed viscously from it, wetting the soft crevice of her buttocks and the bed beneath. Good Lord! Supposing she was pregnant! That thought hadn't occurred to her before, but suddenly she realized such a thing was not impossible. God! How horrible if she were! But there was nothing she could do about it now... except wait, hope and pray.
That jolting thought caused her to hop from the bed and get into the bathroom where she could clean herself up as much as possible. She douched, then climbed into the tub, washing carefully the insides of her thighs and buttocks, and the sticky, still warm sperm from her soft pubic hair, and as she continued the ablutions, visions of Drake Bonner's handsome, cocky grin looking down into her face plagued her incessantly. " * " Betty had coffee with Winnie Olander while her husband still slept, her confidence growing when the little woman's only reference to the night before was a question as to whether Betty had enjoyed herself. Shortly, and quite punctually, Eustace Bixbee arrived to give her an added boost by informing her how refresliingly nice she looked and that she had evidently remarkable recuperative powers, his Mrs. Bixbee being still in the throes of her malady.
It was not until she arrived in the schoolyard at Bolt that Betty received her first jarring let-down. Conspicuously parked beside the squat little building was a yellow Mustang convertible, its significant presence causing a hollow, sinking sensation to clutch at the base of her stomach. It was empty, but there was no doubt in her mind who it belonged to. Drake Bonner! And what in God's name was he doing there?
"Ins't... isn't that Drake Bonner's car?" she stammered, as Eustace Bixbee halted the Chevy and Mime ]i dv; smaller children ran out to gather around it.
"Yes, I believe it is," the Principal replied quite matter of factly. "Why? Is there something wrong?"
"Wrong? Of course not. I... I was just surprised to see it, is all. .."
"Yes, well... Drake usually drives it to school. As a matter of fact, I'm hoping you might be able to make some arrangement for riding back and forth with him, Miss Johnson," he suggested, smiling.
Betty stared at him, her disbelief producing a blank, empty expression to dull her beautiful face. "You mean .. . Drake Bonner is a... a pupil of mine?" she managed to get out finally, her light-rouged mouth dropping open.
The little man nodded, his own expression one of surprise. "I thought you knew," he said, settling back for a moment in the seat. "But I can see that you obviously didn't..."
She shook her head negatively. "I .. I'm shocked... actually overwhelmed."
"Yes," he said, bobbing his head once more. "I can see where you would be. The poor boy... his is a rather sad case, Miss Johnson. He was ill for three years, rheumatic heart, and confined generally to bed. During that period his mother died, and when he was well enough to attend again the desire to learn was not there. He was too old, nearly a grown man, and his father had lavished him with luxuries, even to an automobile, spoiling nun in a grand style... as lathers often do to motherless, only child."
"If... if he doesn't want to learn, why is he here?" Betty asked quickly, her hands noticeably trembling in her lap.
"Hmmmm, that's another situation, Miss John son. One, I'm afraid you'll have to learn to cope with," Eustace Bixbee replied with a sigh. "His father wants him to get at least an elementary education. However, Drake is nineteen, and could certainly quit according to law if he decided he wanted to... but I doubt that he wants to. You see, school provides a certain margin of entertainment for him... and his friends, Walt Berry... and it's just implausible in Wilksbrake, Miss Johnson, to go against the wishes of Judge Claude Bonner and family... if I make myself clear."
Betty continued to stare at him, but in silence. A myriad of thoughts were racing through her mind, not the least of which was the rapings of her two predecessors. At last, she spoke her thought aloud: "Was... was he... Drake and the Berry boy responsible for the assaults on the other teachers, Mr. Bixbee?"
The little man sighed once more. "I was afraid you were coming to that, Miss Johnson," he said, not looking at her now, but gazing off at the school doorway where an enormously overgrown boy of fourteen stood enframed, his face raised dully toward the sky. "I can tell you that they were a part of it.. . and so was every other boy over twelve in the school, including him in the doorway."
Slowly, Betty turned to view the huge lad in the ie shirt and bib-overalls, hardly seeing him in aftermath of the Principal's shocking words. They had all attacked those two poor women. A regular gang affair. My God! How horrible!
"His name is Oxford Sweete and he lives half y up Mother Creek mountain with his folks," he as saying, referring to the obviously dim-witted boy in the doorway. "You also have six of his younger brothers and two younger sisters. Fortunately, they're all quite normal. . . but Oxford requires special attention..." he went on, still she hardly heard a word he was saying. Her brain was too filled with the monstrous thought of the loathing terror those two women must have endured. And well did she know, with the memories of her own nightmare not twelve hours old. My God, could she go through with it? Could she walk into that school and face Drake Bonner now? Well, if she didn't, there was but one alternative... put her tail between her legs and crawl back to the I-told-you-sos of her family and friends.
"Miss Johnson, I should be getting back to town," Eustace Bixbee interrupted her thoughts. "I have several appointments this morning."
"Yes... yes, of course," Betty heard herself say, then she was opening the door and stepping out, even smiling at the smaller children who rushed forward to gather around her and reach for her hand, absolutely amazing herself as she raised the chin high and walked toward the school.
She saw him almost immediately as she entered and walked behind her desk. He sat in the back of the room with the three she had seen in his car yesterdav altcrnoun. He was grinning that cooky smirk and his cronies were also wearing smug little knowing leers. As yet, she had not looked up at them, but was aware again through her peripheral vision. Her throat was tight and dry, and rather than a blush, she sensed that the blood had drained from her face, almost to the point of dizziness, and she knew if she didn't her legs were going to buckle beneath her.
Fortunately, the small children who continued to gather around her began to to occupy her mind, until she was once again in fair control of herself, and finally set about to establish some organization. It was not a simple matter, but she managed, mainly by blotting Drake Bonner's and his friends' presence from mind, concentrating entirely on the remainder of her twenty-five students.
Mr. Bixbee, as promised, had seen to the cleaning of the room and now that it was occupied, the little school seemed quite bearable to her. In general, the younger ones were well behaved and about normal with their progress, until she reached the third-grade group and Oxford Sweete. The boy-man was a lumbering hulk of tremendous physical being with the mind of an eight or nine-year old child. His interests went no further than drawing round, apple-like pictures with Halloween-pumpkin faces, but he was gentle and made a special effort to come up to her desk to tell her about his cat with the soft, soft fur. He had a cherub-like face with a babyish mouth, pug nose and expressionless round blue-eyes. Someone had clipped his hair to almost stubble length. Betty soon learned that he was easily handled when complimented, and accordingly did just that to keep him occupied with his drawing until she could find more individual time to spend with him.
Billy Bragg, the Town Clerk's son who was thirteen, she quickly found out to be the tease, the pest, and the showoff of the lot. He constantly annoyed the smaller boys and girls, making a habit of getting into one kind of mischief or another. Unfortunately, Betty made an enemy of him immediately when one of the Sweete girls came running up to whisper that she had just watched Billy pee in the drinking-water bucket that was kept in the cloak-room.
In a rage, Betty had led the boy into the cloakroom and accused him of committing the nasty act, but Billy, a wiry, thin-faced lad with sneaky little eyes that refused to look at her, broke into a tantrum of yelling and jumping up and down, absolutely denying the accusation.
"Then you won't mind drinking a dipper-full," she snapped at him, still holding to his squirming hand as she ladled out a cupfull of the obviously yellow tainted water.
"I won't! I won't!" Billy Bragg shouted, jerking his arm savagely to get free. "I'm gonna tell my father on yuh! My mother too! I'm gonna tell em how yuh knocked me 'round..."
"You won't have to, Billy," Betty said, letting loose of him. "I'm going to tell them myself... tonight. Now, go back to your seat."
The boy stared at her, his little eyes alive with fear and hatred. Finally, he said: "I'll get even with yuh! Wait an' see! I'll get even with yuh!" Then, he ran back into the classroom.
When she returned, she unwittingly looked directly into the eyes of Drake Bonner who was leaning his elbows on bis desk, his chin resting on his hands, those eyes raking up and down her body lasciviously. And then she saw the twisted, lewd grin on Walt Berry's face and those the Ryan and Simpson boys wore. Even as she looked at them, Walt Berry leaned over and whispered something to Drake and they both broke into a meaningful series of suggestive snickers that brought the blood roaring through her cheeks.
Automatically, Betty rapped her desk with her ruler for silence, while in her mind loomed the appalling thought that there was no question but what they all knew! He had bragged before all of them! O, dear God! Her humiliation was bursting beyond the bounds of endurance! What was she going to do...? The despicable degradation... Suddenly, she heard herself say: "Drake Bonner, would you mind fetching a pail of fresh drinking water, please?" And she had said it with chin high, voice unwavering, and with that certain crispness of tone necessary to make a request an order.
Drake arose slowly, still grinning. "Why sure, Miz Johnson, I'd be right proud to do anythin fer you."
Again, the sniggering, but the sharp whack of her ruler against her desk ended it abruptly. "Good," she snapped, "and when you come back to see what you eighth-graders know about simple math."
Through sheer brazenness on her own part... plain, unadulterated brass that she had never realized she was capable of, Betty painfully bore the throes of her humiliation, even turning the tables to some extent by delicately, but persistently, dwelling on Drake Bonner's and his side-ldcks' ineptitudes' toward learning. And miraculously, it had seemed to work, for over the next few days she could actually see improvement, and for the first time since her arrival in Wilksbrake, she commenced to er joy a certain measure of accomplishment, as well as an initial degree toward peace of mind.
Chapter 2
"Tell us ag'in how she begged yuh to give it to her, Drake?" Jamey Ryan asked eagerly, sucking at the can of beer he had tilted to his mouth, while the four of them sprawled in the Mustang, watching the rippling reflection of the moonlight on the water of Mother Creek Pond.
"Like I told yuh, she just begged for it. Fuck me, Drake, she moans. Fuck me harder! Harder!"
"Jeez Christ!" Will Simpson blurted. "She ever said that to me, I'd ram it down her throat!"
"Listen, when we gonna get at her?" Walt Berry questioned, his eyes gleaming lustfully in the faint light. He gulped at his own beer. "I got me my own thing I wanna do to her. Hell, all I gotta do is look at that bitch an' I git me a rod on that aches alia way to my knees."
Drake Bonner laughed. "You'll git your tongue in 'er, don't worry. That's what I wanna talk to all o'you about. I got me a plan."
"Yeh?" Jamey Ryan butted in. "Let's hear it?"
"Shut up!" Walt Berry snapped. "Let him tell us. What's the plan, Drake?"
"Well now, you studs keep your pants on an' I'll let yuh in on it," said Drake Bonner, lifting his beer to his mouth importantly. "Okay . .. first off, why'd yuh figure I wanted everybody to make her think we was really workin' hard, an' tryin' to be good boys, eh?"
"Why, Drake?" Will Simpson asked.
"To get her trustin us. You know, make her drop her guard... get what I mean?"
"Yeh, yeh, go on," said Walt Berry anxiously. "So when do we get her? That's what I wanna know."
Drake Bonner cast a glare in the shaggy-headed one's direction. "Yuh just hold your godamned mouth for a minute an' I'll tell yuh," he growled.
Silence, except for the gulping of beer down young throats.
"Al' right," Drake continued. "Tomorrow, we get her."
"Tomorrow?"
"Jeez Christ!"
Silence once more.
"I figure we'll let Billy Bragg pull it off," Drake informed them. "He's plenty sore at her for tellin' his of man T)out him pissin' in the drinldn' pail. Jamey, you'll run hke a scared rabbit into the school durin' noon recess an' tell her Billy's just fell outta tree an' hurt himself real bad. Then, yuh lead her down inna piney woods to the same spot where we got of Froglegs an' Tupper. An' that's it!"
"Jeez!" Will Simpson chuckled gleefully. "That's a corker, Drake."
"Yehhh," Walt Berry agreed. "Should work al' right."
"Just one more if! tiring," Drake put in. "Yuh know that thermos of tea she brings with her every day? Well, I got me a little Spanish Fly from ol' Jake Thruber's farm that he uses on his cows 'bout a month ago." He snickered and the others began to join in, knowing full well the effects of the aphrodisiac, Cantharides, properly used. "T'mor-row mornin' durin' recess when she takes the li'l kids out, I'll just slip a pinch o' that in her jib, an' the rest'll take care of itself, eh?"
"Jeez Christ, Drake," said Walt Berry excitedly. "She oughta be hke a goddamn mink in heat!"
And then the others chimed in with similar comments, but Drake Bonner was paying small attention. He was more concerned with the foul and bitter thoughts saturating his own brain. The stuck-up bitch! Look down her nose at him, would she. Poke fun at his lack of education... make him out to be stupid in front of the others just to get even with him for fucking her when all the time she wanted it so bad she damn near went out of her mind. Well, wait until they got through with her tomorrow! Wait until Ox Sweete rammed that bull-cock of his into her! She'd wish to God she never crossed Drake Bonner, and that was for sure. As a matter of fact, she was going to wish to God she'd never heard of Wilksbrake, West Virginia!
Chapter 3
It was one of those warm Indian summer days when the breathtaking foliage change was a constant kaleidoscope of reds, browns and golds to delight the eye, and the faint rustling breeze made one wish such beautiful serenity could go on unending, Betty sat at her desk sipping her tea, finishing a letter to Gordon, the joyous shouts of the children drifting through the open windows to her.
She smiled to herself. She was lazy today, the tranquil balm of the weather getting to her, wishing this noon-hour didn't have to terminate. And she was highly pleased with herself. Her psychology was working marvelously. Her prize pupils- as she had come to privately refer to Drake and his cohorts-were responding as she hadn't dare dream they might. They were actually working harder and their grades improving. Mr. Bixbee could barely believe it when she told him, and he'd had nothing but praise for her. Well, it was certainly pleasing to know that all of her efforts, the tremendous drain she had put on her willpower to see it through, and her faith in human nature had not been entirely in vain.
As for Drake Bonner, and the vicious episode the night of the dance, she had characteristically been able to seal it away in a dark recess of her brain, there, she hoped, to deteriorate with time. Time was the great healer of all wounds. Eventually, she was certain, there would be nothing but a minor scar to remind her it had ever happened. Even Birt Olander had stopped annoying her and become bearable. And now that she had come to know Winnie, she found her to be a kind and concerned little woman, even if she was given to being a bit too nosey.
She had decided to stay with them through the winter, and her arrangements with Bernie Struthers to drive her to and from school were working out perfectly. In all, everthing was...
Jamey Ryan brought her pleasant stream of consciousness to an abrupt end. Breathlessly, he charged into the room shouting: "Yuh better come quick, Miz Johnson! Billy Bragg just fell outta tree! I think he's hurt real bad!"
Fell out of a tree! Where?" Betty asked, bolting to her feet.
"Down behind in the pine's C'mon, I'll show yuh! You better hurry, Miz Johnson, he looks real hurt!"
"Yes, yes! Let me get the first-aid kit," she said, trying to keep her wits about her. Thank God, she'd had first-aid training and knew enough about splinting and binding a broken bone if necessary. With Drake's car available they could rush him to the hospital too, she was thinking, as she followed Jamey out into the schoolyard, stop- US-ping only long enough to give Belinda Sweete, her oldest girl at twelve, orders to dismiss class for the day if she wasn't back in thirty minutes.
She followed along the narrow winding path behind the boy, half running and feeling the snag-gly brush catch and run her nylons a dozen times.
"How much farther?" she called ahead to him, her breathing commencing to tighten across her chest.
"Just a li'l ways now.''
"Good Lord, what were you doing way down in there? No wonder you boys are late from lunch every day..."
They broke into a clearing and she saw Drake Bonner standing beside the prostrate, wiry form of Billy Bragg who lay on his back, moaning. Quickly, she rushed to him, dropping to her knees beside him.
"There now, you're going to be all right, Billy," Betty soothed, glancing along his body as he lay there looking up at her. "Where do you hurt?"
"My leg," he moaned, rolling his head.
Gently, she felt along the upper portion of his leg where she thought he had indicated. "Does it hurt when I touch it?" she questioned, continuing to apply soft pressure.
"Naw..." he shook his head, a slow little smile stretching his mouth, and then he winked at her. "Yuh got the wrong legs, Miz Johnson... It's this one!
Abruptly, he had reached down with both hands and pulled open the front of his pants. Betty gasped in surprised shock as she saw his rigid, purple head throbbing as if it were staring at her with its one tiny slitted eye.
Again she gasped, falling back upon her haunches as she gaped in disbelief at the sight of him laying there, exposing his genitals to her and grinning hke a jack-o-lantern.
"Wh . .. what is the meaning of this outrage'" she blurted, snapping her eyes angrily from the vile exhibition of Billy Bragg to the smirking face of Drake Bonner. Then, she watched the handsome blond's expression alter to another of feigned astonishment.
"Why, Miz Johnson, Billy's only showin' yuh where he hurts," Drake said with mock seriousness. "Seems hke he keeps havin' this pain in his cock, see, an'..."
"Drake Bonner!" Betty exclaimed, her lovely face burning a livid red in her rage. "How dare you! How... how dare you!" she stammered, repeating herself in her wrath for lack of immediate words or clarity of thought. She stumbled to her feet, her body trembling, her eyes furious, "Mr. Bixbee's going to have a complete report of this, and so is your father..."
"Shut up!" Drake snarled suddenly. He took a step toward her and caught at her wrist, jerking her toward the center of the clearing, and flinging her forward. "Al' right you studs, c'mon!"
When he let go of her, Betty had stumbled to one knee from the violence of his whiplike jerking, her head spinning with the force of the act, and now as she slowly regained her wits, the first twinges ol dread began to grip at her entrails. She saw them coming from the woods one by one, Walt Berry, Darrel Avery, Will Simpson... cans of beer in their hands, ugly, carnal leers contorting their faces .. . four, five, six of them, completely surrounding her... even Oxford Sweete who was walking over and sitting down on a stump to examine closer some leaves he had picked.
Oh no, she thought, her mind blanking rapidly from sensible reasoning, her simple dread of a moment before giving way to that of rising panic and the first stages of sheer horror. The fate of her predecessors loomed sickeningly in her mind, momentarily blotting out all other thoughts. Oh, dear God, no! It couldn't be! It couldn't...!
"Surprise, teacher," Drake Bonner said, his handsome mouth drawn back sharply from his teeth. "Such a nice day, we all figured it'd be kinda thoughtful if'n' we gave yuh a li'l party... sorta picnic hke." She heard snickers ripple through the group, and now her stomach-clutching dread had advanced to near paralyzing terror as she gaped from one to the other of the youthful, half-drunken faces, wearing their masks of lust, and her fate became as obvious to her as the brilliance of the day itself. Then, she heard Drake Bonner say: "Spread outta blanket for Miz Johnson, Will, so's she'll be comfortable. We sure want her to enjoy this here picnic, eh?"
She saw Will Simpson spread a blanket he had produced from somewhere, and as she continued to stare at their licentious faces, one to the other, a hand touched her arm and she shivered.' shrinking tremor surging through her." Just bein' gentlemanly, Miz Job
] said, smihng wickedly. "Ain't that the way it's done in them high class places you come from?
Here, let me take your arm an' help yuh to the blanket while Walt opens
. in' beer to sip first... eh?"
She commenced by shai she gazed fixedly into his pitiless dull-blue eyes her brain struggling for the proper words of en treaty, even as he led her to the blanket, gently pressing her shoulders downward until she dropped to her knees and back upon her haunches. Then, he lowered himself and sat dov/n beside her, offering his best smile.
At last, she manged: "Please, Drake .,. my God, don't do this to me... I beg of you..."
"Why, Miz Johnson, you're all upset over nothin again. Just like that other night," he pretended at pacifying her. "Now... you just think how much fun it was after I got it inna yuh... 'member?"
Someone thrust a can of beer at her and she refused to take it. Drake grabbed it and shoved it; at her face.
"Please, I don't want..
"Drink it, yuh stuck-up bitch or I'll pour it 'down your throat!" he snarled, his smile leaving him as abruptly as it had come. "Drink it!"
She did, gulping several swallows of the v/arrn, sudsy liquid, tastelessly.
"That's better," he grinned once more, his hand reaching out to gently stroke her belly familiarly, u see, Miz Johnson, yuh can either make this a nice picnic an' we all have fun... or yuh can ruin it an' just us studs is gonna have the fun... :!do you know what I mean?"
At first, she felt her flesh crawl at his touch as again she sought her brain for pleading words that would reach him, but then, the repulsive idea occurred... a deep, indescribable, electrify; shock tingled through the already frayed nerve-ends of her body like a million micro pinks, and she gasped unintelligible sounds that choked in her throat as his hand moved upward, caressing the fullness of her firm breast.
"Yuh see, honey... how nice it is when yuh let yourself go a li'l," he whispered, sliding his body across the blanket closer to her. "You're gettin' all fuzzy inside ain't yuh? An' yuh know why?" He chuckled lightly, his handsome young face only ihi .lies from her own. '"Cause of your tea, honey. Oi Drake slipped some Spanish Fly into your tea..."
He might have struck her. The impact would have been no greater. She raised her hands between them, planting them against his chest as if to hold him away. She stared at him wide-eyed with horror, while the delicious sensations continued to torment her entire being.
You... you didn't," she moaned, "oh no . . my God . .. Cantharides! . .. Dangerous poison!... Sometimes fatal . .. Dear God, no, no, no!" And then as she watched in an unwanted, suddenly inflamed, half-stupor, the others moved closer, encircling them, and to her open mouthed awe they were unbuckling their belts, letting their trousers slide down their legs, their stiff shafts of varying sizes wherever she turned, jutting out from their youthful loins at her like a phalanx of lances poised at ready for the deadly thrusts she knew were soon to come.
"It can't be! It just can't!" Betty whined, shaking her head in utter disbelief as Drake arose before her, unfastened his own pants to slip to the ground, baring his thick, projecting rod of flesh she so well remembered. "Wh .. . what are you doing.. . ?" she heard herself ask foolishly.
A wave of sniggers and chortles came down at her for answer while she gaped incredulously at the grinning, fiendish faces, one to the other, the evil, half-drunken countenances of young men standing with legs spread, each obscenely stroking his individual lust-provoked member.
"Yuh wanna take 'em off yourself, or yuh want us to?" Drake said to her, and she read the obvious enjoyment he was deriving from the brutal torment he was subjecting her to.
She tried to speak but couldn't. Her words bunched in her throat. She raised to her knees looking up at him, her now tear-wet eyes pleading for mercy, and he caught at her hair brutally, jerking her head forward, at the same time rubbing his wet-tipped penis around her lips. Betty cringed back from him in utter revulsion, the poignant taste and smell of his secretion near nauseat-"ing her. ."Let's get her goddamned clothes off!" someone snarled.
"Drake fucks her first!" another said.
"I'm gonna fuck her inna mouth!" she heard Bragg spit viciously, her eyes and ears refusing to accept what she knew to be the horrifying, truth. "I told yuh I'd get even!" he came close and shrieked into her face. "I told yuh, yuh goddamned bitch! Squeal to my ol' man on me will yuh? I'm gonna learn yuh...!"
Abruptly, Betty leaped to her feet, her body and partially drugged brain reacting to one last desperate bid for escape. She lunged, but they canght her easily, two of them holding to her while other hands pulled at her clothes and Drake's voice warned them to be careful not to rip anvthiri "'Member, she's doin this of her own Betty stood helpless while they stripped her, it ir hands pawing at her breasts, buttocks and loir: obscenely. Dear God! There was nothing she could do against their number and strength. She was alone and completely at their mercy to do with as they wished. Then, they had pushed her back onto the blanket once more, pulling her legs from beneath her until she was on her back with four of them holding her, each with an arm or leg so that she was spread-eagle before the now completely naked body of Drake Bonner who stood above her looking down, hands on hips, his hefty, huge prick hovering rigidly, menacingly, his sperm filled hairy sac hanging like a water-filled balloon at its base, and as she was about to scream a foul smelling hand clamped over her mouth.
"Look at her," Drake hissed heavily at the others. "Take a good look at class, you studs. She's the stuck-up bitch who thinks she's better 'n' we are. Come all the way down here from New York t'help us poor folk get learnin'. Now, ain't that right nice? Just looka them tits... that pretty li'l soft golden pussy..."
Betty watched wild-eyed as they bent over her to drink in her naked loveliness, their lust-twisted faces unbelievable visages of desire. She could barely breathe with the hand jammed tight against her mouth and nostrils, and what wafts of air she could inhale were pungent with unclean genital odor tainting it. Momentarily, she thought she would surely faint, even prayed that she might, and then she saw Walt Berry touch Drake's arm.
"Wait a minute, Drake," he said, his eyes beady as they looked into the other's face. "You already had her once... let me give her my treatment first... then you fuck her . .."
"Yeah, Drake," Jamey Ryan who was holding her leg put in quickly. "Let Walt do it first! Go on... I wanna see her goddamn face!"
"Yeah, let 'im go first, Drake," another voice chimed in.
Drake grinned and stepped out from between her legs, letting the shaggy-haired one take his place.
Betty froze in terror as the thick-lipped, mous-tached boy slowly dropped to his knees between her wide-spread thighs, his lickerish eyes feasting on the vision of her golden-down-covered loins.
As his head moved forward toward her tender face and realization of what he was going to do struck her, she made a muffled groan against the stench saturated hand over her mouth. There was nothing left. They were about to plunder her of every vestige of decency.
"Go 'head, Walt! Hell, can't yuh see how bad she wants it? Go on! Lick her goddamn cunt!" Bragg cried.
A convulsive spasm jerked at her thigh and stomach muscles as she felt his lips pressing into the soft naked flesh of her belly. She tried to cringe from his touch, but the sudden wet contact sent an unwanted chill racing the length of her spine. Then she felt his wet tongue tracing downward to the "V" of her crotch and the spreading of her soft blonde, pubic hair with his thumbs as his tongue laced snakelike into the moist, tight slit of her vagina.
A cheer went up like spectators watching a sporting event, and a shudder rippled through her at the electrifying union of his thick tongue with her clitoris. Roughly, she felt him clamp his sweating palms against the soft insides of her thighs as if to spread her more wide open to him, and she forced her head up, her eyes open wide in abject terror to see him hunched on all fours down between her wide-spread thighs, grinning up at her between her proud, upstanding breasts, like a beast of prey ready to pounce on its helpless, fear-stricken victim and devour it in savage feast. The pink, moist flesh of her naked vagina was presented up to his leering face in defensless sacrifice. She lay helpless, the grinning faces, the throbbing angry cocks all around her. Her humiliation was finally complete. She watched his tongue slowly circling his hps in nervous preparation for the ravishment about to take place.
Again, he placed his palms flat against the in-sides of her thighs, his thumbs resting on the soft fleshy flanges of her cunt. Then, with a slow, torturing outward movement of his thumbs he drew the ragged pink lips slowly apart, exposing the moist pink gash between her wide spread legs to the mercy of all to gaze upon. Ohs and ahs and the harsh sucking-in of breaths came down to her as they stared at it greedily, until with an animallike groan the shaggy-haired boy dropped his head and buried the full length of his long slippery tongue into the warm throbbing walls of her pussy.
She jerked convulsively, a whimpering moan escaping from deep in her chest. Her buttocks ground hard into the blanket covered earth, endeavoring to escape the maddening attack. Then, with a liquid suck of his lips, he drew the tiny, now erect clitoris wetly into his hot, moist mouth. He nibbled at it with the sharp tips of his teeth until she cried out against the muffling hand.
She whimpered wildly under his depraved assault, her head still raised, watching in horrified fascination this nightmare that was actually happening to her in broad daylight, as his head rocked up and down in greedy feast between her legs below.
It can't be! It can't be! She groaned over and over to herself in open humiliation, her head falling back to the earth, flailing helplessly from side to side while his tongue speared in and out of the involuntary dilating hps of her cunt. Yet, in spite of her terror and revulsion at the horrible things being done to her defensless genitals, tiny wisps of forbidden pleasure had begun to purl deep down in her belly, and her firm round breasts jiggled sensuously from the buffeting her lower body was undergoing.
Suddenly, she distinguished the handsome, cocky smirk of Drake Bonner grinning down amidst the sea of faces above her and she clenched her eyes tightly shut, while the whirlpools of sensation shooting almost out of control through her loins commenced to build and build and build.
Dear God! She must fight it with all of her strength. She must not succumb as she had the other night to the betrayal of her body! She mustn't let them win! She mustn't! She mustn't!
But suddenly, the sucking boy's tongue snaked forward, burrowing up into her straining cunt hke a racing lizard. Shock spiraled crazily up her spine to the base of her skull where it shattered in a cascade of wild scintilating explosions, the hot meteors raining down tauntingly over her whole body. Her crotch jerked involuntarily forward, burying the flicking tongue to its roots. Fire was rapidly replacing fear... and all else. She had never felt so blatantly wanton in her whole life. Oh dear God, what had happened to her?
She had come alive spontaneously! Demons danced wickedly along the inner softness of her thighs. Her buttocks ground desperately into the hard earth beneath her, frantically trying to quell the searing, hot lashes of flame suddenly licking maddeningly at her naked, quivering body. But it was futile. And her pleas to the Almighty were futile! The fire roared headlong out of control. She saw in blurred vision the head of Drake Bonner nod, felt the two pinioning her arms loosen their holds as well as the hand removed from her mouth, and her fingers hooked talonlike in the greasy, shaggy hair of Walt Berry, a low, soul-stirring moan emitting raspingly from her as she clutched him to her, grinding her cunt tight up into his face.
God almighty! This was no longer enough! The demons driven by the Spanish fly were dancing lewdly and faster about the rough pink edges of her naked cunt! She tried to pull him up over her, to get him inside her, but someone dragged him away, and then Drake was there, his face above hers, and she raised her head so that her eyes could lock greedily on his long, heavy cock jutting from his kneeling body above her. Forgotten was her humiliation, her fears, any, and all, obligations she had ever known. The devils danced! She needed but one thing now; she needed that cock! More than anything else in the world she needed that magnificent cock!
He grinned at her and she yanked his head down to her, kissing his lips his nose his eyes, her tongue slavering over his face; and then she guided the thick, blood-filled head of his prick straight into the now gaping gorge of her cunt, his powerful young body smashing a deep groan. He levered up, ramming that familiar cock as deep as it would penetrate into her hungry clasping pussy. His balls smacked heavily into her now upturned ass, his hard, hairy stomach boring hotly into the yielding softness of her belly.
Betty strained against him, wanting him deeper, wanting him deeper into this insane quivering eimt she possessed.
"Fuck deeper! Fuck deeper!" she screamed at him in a frenzy of near distraction.
He clutched the cheeks of her ass as he had done before and drove his prick to the hilt.
"Oh Christ, it's too short " she wailed. "It's too short!"
Then, he rammed his tongue deep into her wide open mouth hoping to compensate, the saliva drooling down into her throat. Rabidly, Betty socked at it, her body caught up in an insane vortex of naked, raw lust that she was vaguely aware existed, but could not, and did not want to, fathom why. Cock! Prick! That was all! She had to have cock!
She groaned in her frustration, splaying her legs beyond reason to allow him greater access, but he could not take advantage.
As best he could, Drake's jerking weapon pis-toned into her... mercilessly by all standards, now bringing gasps of pain from him as his pelvis hammered her crotch in a brutal splatting result with every pile-driving thrust. Then... Betty moaned again. He was bringing her to climax with the savage pounding of his body alone.
She bucked beneath him, maddeningly, wantonly, uncontrollably, and abruptly she sensed his plunging rod stiffen without warning, spewing its white, hot juice far into the obscenely milking walls of her tortured womb.
She groaned, even cried out in disappointment. The pupils of her eyes dilated as she tried to blurt that he'd been too soon... too soon I She'd been almost there I The peak hadn't been a fraction away! She strained crazily for his deflating tool until he pulled from her with a wet sucking sound and she fuzzily read the expression of amazement on his face. She kicked at him to get him away, he fire raging on in her.
She thrust her empty crotch into the air, tears of passion streaming down her cheeks. She gaped upward at the beautiful sunshine, remembering in the back of her brain what a delightful day it was, but the torment at her loins would not let her think clearly. Then, through the haze, she looked up and saw Oxofrd. They were taking off his pants and one of them was milking his shaft. She stared at it skeptically. It couldn't be true. It was a spectaclel He grinned down at her and they guided him between her thighs. She stared at him standing there, his giant cock rearing out from his muscular belly like a third arm with a huge pair of fists balled between his legs. Groggily, she estimated it to be at least eleven inches long and two wide... maybe more, and the two monstrous sperm-bloated balls hanging at the base gave it the despoiling appearance ol a mighty gun ready to roar into belching flames of action.
She jerked her feasting eyes until they wandered about the circle of youthful faces, her mind dimmed in a manner she could not comprehend, and then her gaze locked once more upon the gigantic cock. Suddenly, she gasped in terror as her mind endeavored to shed reason, and she drew her thighs tightly against him, her fear bubbling out of her.
"No... no, Oxford. You mustn't! You mustn't!" It couldn't be true! None of it could be true! Good God!, he'd split her wide open! He wasn't human! That horrendous prick would tear her apart...!
The faces came closer, leering, gaping, as if to get a bird's eye view of the marvel about to take place before them. Two boys squatted at either side of her legs, grasping her ankles and holding them far apart. Her delicate, coral slit nestling in the soft pubic hair flowered into full view of all at her feet, while the others strained closer to stare down at her strugglings. Out of nowhere came a hand to pinch at her right full tit, digging angrily at first, and then withdrawing quickly.
Oxford was now well positioned between her wide-spread thighs. Those holding her ankles raised them, bending her writhing body double, until her toes were at the back of her head, and she gasped with the stretching pain. Her face contorted in anguish, every muscle in her body feeling as though it were stretched beyond all human endurance. The flat plane of her luscious hair-covered pussy was presented up to the kneel- ing young brute in defensless offering. It was bis to plunger at will.
He grinned down at it, saliva beginning to dribble from his slack mouth; then, his hps bared back over small white teeth and lust beaded into hi eyes for the first time. He commenced to stroke hi: immense cock with both hands as if in greed preparation for the assault on the helpless upturned cunt before him. His body swayed on hi: great knees like an inflated rubber toy, his nov sweat glistening skin shining in the brilliant glo] of the autumn sunshine. He shuffled forward awl wardly, his pelvis and huge bulging prick thru, out and quivering like an out of balance, top heavy tree trunk.
Betty, in awed terror, her tremendous passion ol moments before lessened now that they had let her he untouched intimately for a period, gaped up between her wide-split thighs at the writhing, monstrous torso inching toward the helpless crevice between her legs. She could not drag her eyes from the terrorizing instrument that was only a moment away from ripping into her still hot, quaking body in grotesque rape. It mesmerized her. She froze in abject stillness.
Then, without warning, the demented man-boy jerked his loins back and she found herself lifting her crotch upward as if she were under some kind of spell, searching with her gaping cunt for that massive rod of flesh that was going to split her asunder. She wanted itl She cringed in horror of it... but she wanted it! She had to have it inside her! And she saw the lust incited boys gasp as the big bulging purple head found its hungry opening. It waggled for a moment as a stallion's might, poking at the pink, ragged edges of flesh, nuzzling gently between them, and even as she ground her pelvis frantically up at it, she cried aloud: "Oh no! No! You mustn't, Oxford! You mustn't! You'll kill me!"
"Ram her, Ox!" exclaimed Will Simpson hoarsely, gripping his own shaft tightly in his fist. "Maybe Froglegs and Tupper couldn't take it, but this bitch can. She's got the ass for it! Go on, ram her! Ram the bitch!"
With a flick of his lean hips, Ox forced the blood-filled chunky head to penetrate a portion of an inch inside the quivering hps of her hair-collared cunt, brutally expanding the stubborn, rubbery flesh almost to the ripping point.
Betty threw back her head insanely and screamed: "Aaaaggggh!"
It submerged a tortured inch, as desperately she tried to free her legs from the ruthless imprisoning hands shackling her, to kick free and escape this inhuman, agonizing impalement. But they held her tight and she screamed again.
"Uuuuggggghhhh! It's too big! It's splitting me open! Stop! Stop!" She was certain her cunt lips were tearing! The pain was unbearable, racking her inhumanly stretched body like bolts of flesh-searing lightning.
Ox groaned and leaned toward her. Another inch...
"AAAaaaaaaggggggghhhhhhh!" Foul beer-smelling breaths saturated her nostrils as the boys leaned in closer over her hot, perspir ing body. Their faces hung within inches of her straining nakedness, gaping as if hypnotized at the raping of their voluptuous teacher by this giar moron who was fucking and skewering into her soft, white flesh as if she were some medievel serf Then, she was dimly aware of clutching hand squeezing and massaging at her breasts, and moist hands and fingers clawing over every part of h being, until she was certain she was covered minute-sized crawling things, feverishly working to enter every opening of her body.
"Noooo! Nooo!" she sobbed, half hysterical of sudden, tears welling in great gushes from h's pain blinded eyes.
"Don't cry," blubbered Ox in a near whinir stupor of his own. "I'm tryin'. I'll do it to yuh. Y' don't have t'cryl Til get it in..
Betty tried to focus her eyes on his cherub fa' astonished, but simultaneously aware that he v doing what he thought she wanted him to o They had brainwashed him! The poor innoce brute... He thrust and she bit at her lower lip until she tasted the saltiness of her own blood rather than to scream at him again. He had plowed his giant cock crashingly into the dc-folds of her tight resisting passage, pressing gre waves of her pink soft flesh rippling before believing that this was what she wanted, endeavoring with his simple brain to fulfill her wish. She quaked spasmodically as the gigantic rod plunged headlong into her belly. Her mind raced in frantic reasoning at the huge monster filling her, crushing her inner organs as it dug even deeper. Jesus God!
It would burst into her throat if he didn't stop! It was tearing her soul from her body and then it was devouring it as he flexed the colossal head once, twice... gulping it away in mouthfuls of depraved sensuality. Her soul was rapidly leaving her and there was nothing left but this huge moron with the horrendous cock. He was doing it for her! He was! He was!
Suddenly, it stopped! With an earthquake-like thud his pelvis crashed resoundingly against the wide-split crevice of her ass! The immense semen inflated sac swaggered with the effect. He was home! Home! His magnificent rod of muscle and I issue lay imbedded to his pelvis inside her quivering cunt Hke the great weapon of a bull!
Then, she thought of him as a bull. A gentle, giant bull meeting his need in the pasture. He hadn't meant to hurt her. He had complied with i i ieir insinuating suggestions. He was holding still tiiove her now, knowing he had hurt her and waiting for her to adjust to the presence of his huge prick in her white, soft belly. He was watching, waiting for her pain-tormented face to relax. He knew pain, this lovable imbecile! She gnashed her teeth and bit at her hp once more.
He flexed the great head again and she groaned uncontrollably deep inside, her teeth re-clenching. He waited, watching her, and flexed yet again. The agony had lessened and her sound was slighter. Once more, she bit at her hp as her hot throbbing passage grew accustomed to the unnatural size. Then, he began a slow revolving motion with his pelvis, grinding this huge prick into her naked crotch, stretching the still cringing walls until it fitted like a Gloved sword in a Davidian sheath.
She raised her eyes, even proud in some deranged manner as unbelieving faces peered lustfully within inches of the enormous buried cudgel, amazed that her cunt could swallow the whole of it. She knew why they stared and in her dazed, warped mind she was proud. Again, she sensed hands rubbing, lewdly caressing her moon-shaped ass-cheeks. From either side, eager fingers tugged cruelly at the fleshy hair-covered lips suckling his Herculean cock. She felt a finger-tip probe beneath the dangling, bull-like sac at her defensless, puckered anus, flirting teasingly with it like a wild tongue. She winced as it paused and probed, suddenly popping inside the tight surrounding nether ring and worming deeply around at the tender, spongy flesh inside. It rolled around, enlarging the tiny opening until the very palm of the invading hand lay flat against her rounded ass-cheeks, the entire digit buried securely within the withered pulsating hole.
Now, of a sudden, Ox commenced a racking sawlike motion in and out of Betty's moist, flesh-filled pussy, plunging pitilessly from the crest of his withdrawal and ramming her agony-filled body mercilessly down aaginst the hard blanket covered earth. The finger sunk in her asshole united with the massive, slow drubbing cock in a tempoed fucking team that raised whimpers an whines of elation from the lips of her groaning mouth, keeping obscene cadence with their duo rhythm.
The torture was miraculously subsiding and the strange sensation of tingling joy was again seeping through her defenseless body. The outrageous debasement and subjugation aroused odd masochistic delights to surge through her bloodstream. Her strong hips commenced unanticipated gyrating motions in an abandoned harmony with the increasing speed of the cock and finger fucking into her. Hands from everywhere groped to help while lusty youthful faces leered down upon her hungrily.
"Oooohhh yes, yes... fuck me this way," she heard herself moan piteously. "Oh shit yes! Fuck me this way!" she mewled, writhing her body lustfully amidst the clutching hands and fingers crawling over her vibrant flesh everywhere. Hands were stroking cocks to the beat of their fucking. She gazed about her in blurred ecstasy. Cocks were everywhere. Large ones... small ones, fat and thin, a cock paradise... imprisoned by them... and all the time the most magnificent of them all was sunk deep in her hungry cunt... fucking into her, growing with each thrust like an immense, oversized gourd... while the anonymous finger lambasted her tightly clenching rectum like another throbbing prick... and she a prisoner... a helpless, defenseless prisoner who could do nothing against the delicious assault of her cunt and asshole... strapped between their battering lust like an ensnared animal.
"O God, don't stop! Oh fuck! Don't ever stop!
No... no!" Betty blurted thickly, her brain reeling as she rotated her up-thrusted ass faster and faster, endeavoring to maintain pace with the huge shafts of flesh and finger pummeling into her hke automated screwing mechanisms. Then, she felt someone seize her hand and place a cock into it, pressing her fingers snugly around it. Cocks! Cocksl Everywhere... and now one in each hand to stroke and jerk in time to the mutual tempo, while lovable, beautiful Oxford's magnificent prick drubbed into her throbbing cunt and she sensed its sudden pulsating, expanding heaving.
"No! No! wait... wait!" she cried in desperation, but it was too late. His moronic little eyes rolled foolishly in his head and his heavy balls corn menced forcing gush after gush of his hot, thicK sperm deep into her constricting belly. She tried to stop his stream with the grinding of her seething crotch tight against his pelvis, but the very nature of her sucking movement defeated her purpose The sucking grasp of her cunt milked it clean, until the final dregs of his vast hot load gurgled deep within her distended womb.
Then, they were pulling him off her still-writhing body, a useless and drained hulk, his white, sticky semen stringing from the head of his deflated cock across her thigh as another cradled himself atop her, thrusting his stiff member into her squirming, straining cunt hke a jack-hammer.
She jerked upward to him animalistically, his face a blurred nonentity above her as she struggled wildly to reach the climax she had so far been denied.
'Jeez! Look at her fuck!" she heard someone lewdly exclaim, the voice only faintly registering in her passion-crazed brain.
"I told yuh! I told yuh!" came the unmistakable voice of Drake Bonner.
"Damn, what a hot, hungry pussy!"
A shudder of wanton delight surged through her raw, nerve-tingling body at their obscene words and her own helplessness. Her breasts heaved and quivered up against the pressure of the faceless boy's chest, their hardened nipples digging into him hke buttons on a coat. She fucked insanely with him... until, at last, it came over her Uke a breathtaking tidal wave of searing, indescribable elation, roaring through her madly aroused body, the lips of her cunt working and sucking at his penis, her breath rasping in short frenzied gasps, as the powerful lightninglike sensations jolted her from the tip of her skull down to her desperately curling toes.
"Oh God! Oh God! I'm comming... coommm-iiiinnnnnggg... ooooolmlihhh!" she wailed as the cocks in her hands began to spew forth their jets of viscid white fluid, spurting hotly against her naked breasts and ribs, and then the nonentity's plunging shaft expanded, pouring his lust-driven load into her quaking womb.
And yet another mounted her, and another as she wallowed lewdly in the mucid pools of their sperm, chastising and debasing herself in her near maniacal arousal, her mind a befogged mass of unintelligible cerbration.
Suddenly, they were ordering her to get on her knees and grabbing impatiently at her hips to help. She managed to pull herself to all fours, her head reeling with the effort as they adjusted her, then she felt the body kneeling behind her between her open thighs. Unconsciously, she waggled the stretched orbs of her buttocks back at the invader and felt the blunt end of his cock ram into the now sperm-soaked gash of her cunt. She heard him grunt and thrust again, shoving her forward cruelly with his lunge, and momentarily her eyes focused enough to recognize Billy Bragg coming at her face with his hardened prick in his hand, his thin face twisted evilly.
"Now it's my turn, yuh bitchl Suck this goddamn yuh! Suck it!" he screamed at her, shoving it into her gaping mouth. He had knelt in front of her, grasping both sides of her head, holding firm to it. Somewhere in the back of her drug-crazed mind, she gave thanks for its smallness as he sawed into her face viciously. She gagged as he rammed it to the back of her tongue almost to her throat, her ovaled lips brushing the short, wiry hair of his young pelvis, his balls slapping harshly against her chin. She fought for breath, managing to catch it on the outstroke of his cruel thrusting.
Oh God! she groaned inwardly as they pummeled her lust-driven body back and forth helplessly between them, and then once more, the mental vision of this very helplessness, the thought of them fucking her this way mercilessly, incited her. The desire deep inside her belly became a rabid torrent once more and she began to roll her buttocks high up behind her in a circle with her cunt ponding the hot, fleshy pole burrowing into her. She wanted to exploit it to the limit, to saturate her entrails with his sticky, hot sperm, until it spluttered out of her glutted cunt to dribble down her already thickly covered thighs. She wanted to grovel in it again. She sucked insatibly at the stubby prick in her mouth, her cheeks concaving with his every thrust. It was the first time in her life she had ever tasted cock and she explored it with her tongue hungrily. She swirled her tongue-tip and taunted the small blood-fattened head, stabbing into the tiny orifice hotly. She wanted it to shoot in her mouth, to swallow it and feel it pouring down her throat until her stomach was as filled as her cunt. She wanted it to drench her body both inside and out. Then, she got her wish!
At the same time as her own climax commenced to crescendo, the cock fucking into her from the rear, bulged and jerked, spurting its creamy hot charge up her quaking cunt. It splashed violently against her passage walls and drizzled back out of her, dripping from the saturated, hair-covered cunt-hps against his smooth young loins. His balls massaged her erect clitoris, causing her to convulse spasmodically forward, submerging the junior-sized prick in her wildly sucking mouth to the very hilt. It too burst forth with sudden violence, flooding her mouth and throat with the delicious pungent liquid in a manner she had not dreamed possible, her cheeks bloating as she swallowed the gushes ex'iledly, clasping her lips like a tiglily fitted ring about the small spurting prick so as not to lose a single drop of the life-giving sperm. It dribbled from the corners of her mouth down to her chin and she lashed out her tongue in a sweeping, snakelike motion to swipe the stringy, viscous fluid back into her mouth as his collasped penis pulled free from her lips with a wet, sucking sound and he shrunk away before her.
She skewered her ass back savagely onto the still squirting cock in her cunt and with a wail from between gnashing teeth, felt her own body explode in a great burst of showering stars, racking her entire being with an agonizing ecstasy that sent her brain to whirling madly, and she felt herself falling forward onto her face just before merciful oblivion completely enveloped her,.
Betty lay quietly, staring at the flowered pattern on the wallpaper of her room. Three days of complete bed-rest and Winnie Olander's nursing care Lad alleviated most of the physical damage to her ravished, battered and bruised body, but she doubted that anything could ever ehminate the horrible mental injury done to her.
Doc Shelton's sedatives had initiated sleep, but ley were troubled hours of constant nightmare. Several times Winnie had come running into her and Betty had awakened bathed in a cold sweat, the little woman beside her, holding her hand and stroking her brow.
"You're al' right now, Miz Johnson. Just you relax. You're al' right."
O, dear God, help me! she would think to herself, her whole body caught up in the throes of convulsive tremors, as she tried to shake the memory of the vicious assaults made upon her body that terror-filled afternoon. She knew that she should be filled with repugnance and loatiiing... but she was not, and this frightened her more than all else. For her nightmares were not of horror because of the vile things done to her, but of the debasement of her body. God! What was to become of her...?
"Maybe if yuh talk "bout it, Miz Johnson," Winnie suggested soothingly, leaning close, her eyes growing beady with anticipation.
But she had remained silent, never once divulging to any of them the least incident that had occured in the wooded clearing behind the school. Perhaps, it was her pride, or her stubborn, determined resolve not to be beaten, still fighting desperately for survival in some dim recess of her mind; whatever, she had admitted nothing to them, even refusing to allow Doc Shelton to examine her.
When she had awakened and found herself alone in the clearing, she had somehow managed in her numbed, drug-sickened stupor, to clean herself up, dress, and stumble back to the school. Later, Bernie Struthers had come for her, accepting her claim of being ill... "probably the flu"... and drove her immediately to the Olander's where the little woman had helped her into bed. Had it not been for the nightmares and her crying out in fright, Betty doubted that she would have aroused any suspicions at all.
As it was, the appalling truth was locked within the confines of her own being, there to remain forever hidden as far as she was concerned. She had had these days to he here and do nothing but think, and this had been her final decision. Of course, she would return to New York. There was no alternative but to face the I-told-you-so and accept them as gracefully as she could. She was beaten... but to expose the whole hideous so I did episode could do nothing but add insult to injury . The publicity, the reliving of the lurid details that even now sent little tingles of carnal exultation shooting through her... but before authorities, or in a courtroom... just the thought any more and could bear.
She had made up her mind. Tomorrow shed leave Wilksbrake just as she had told Mr. bixbee last night when he had come to visit her. She had already prepared her letter of resignation, using reasons of health and the strenuous demands of the curriculum as her motives. She doubted that the little man had believed her for one moment, but gentleman that he was, he had not tried to prove , only accepted the letter sadly.
"I'm... I'm terribly sorry, Miss Johnson," he said, seated beside her bed and staring at the envelope in his hand. "I'd so much hoped that it would work out... but then, I suppose you know He had looked up at her, his spectacle-magnified eyes searching her own deeply. "Is... is there anything you wish to tell me, Miss Johnson??"
Betty hesitated only a moment, then: "No, Mr. hisbee. It's all there in the letter. The position was just too clear. So, that's the way it had all ended, and now she had to leave on the Greyhound in the morning. Winnie had seen to most of her packing her. There was nothing left to her dream but to leave! she put the last valise and climb onto the bus for good.
Betty wept quietly to herself.
Shortly, she slept, only to know the tormenting rapture of her nightmare once more, and when she awakend with a start, her body trembling and covered with a film of warm perspiration, Winnie was in bed beside her, cradling her head against her small firm breasts and caressing her brow tenderly.
"There, there, pet, you're gonna be al' right. Just relax. Winnie's right here t'take care of yuh."
Betty felt another shudder pass through her at the little woman's touch, as she immediately became aware that her uninvited bed-mate was naked and that her own nightgown had been removed.
"Wh... what are you doing .. .? I don't understand .. . Where's my nightgown...?"
"There now, don't you get yourself all worked up 'gain," the little woman soothed. "You don't have to tell Winnie what happened t'other day... I can guess. Those filthy young uns. I know 'em... an' what they do. Just like all men... but I'm gonna make yuh all better, honey... soothe your nerves an' relax this pretty body of yours so's yuh can get some rest."
Betty lay as if frozen against the soft, small breasts pressing into her cheek, a dry, almost strangling sensation in her throat... shocked, surprised, yet, not quite able to resist the smooth motherly caresses. Suddenly, Winnie's small hand stroked her naked breast gently, pausing to taunt her nipple into hardness with a knowing feminine touch, then trailing down her ribs tantalizingly as she shifted her position until they were lying facing each other.
In overwhelming disbelief, Betty stared wide-eyed in the semi-darkness at the form of this woman whose intimate touches were both exciting and revolting her in almost equal proportions, the combined effect of the two emotions leaving her suddenly bereft of any power to act.
"I... I don't understand..." Betty stammered once more, the smaller woman's strong, shghtly muscular body quivering hotly as it pressed tightly against her own.
"Shhhh," Winnie whispered, "just relax an' let me bring yuh comfort."
Her hand came up and touched Betty's cheek. Betty lay stockstill while the fingers ran down to her hps and moved gently along them, and then over her chin to the long smooth neck. She shivered from the delicate tracing fingertips.
"You're a pretty girl," Winnie hissed. "I've thought so since yuh first come... but I didn't dare say it. I gotta tell yuh an' show yuh now... cause t'morrow you'll be leavin' me... Hav... have yuh fucked many men?"
The ribald question jolted Betty. At first, she didn't know how to answer, or if she should answer at all...
"Have yuh?"
"N-No...," Betty stuttered, finally, not really knowing what made her answer the lewd question.
"You're too good for 'em. Damn em," Winnie said.
Betty lay unable to move, as if it were impossible for her mind to believe what was taking place. She had heard of women who were this way, but she had never knowingly been in one's presence. Again, Winnie's hand dropped to her breast and her face moved closer in the half-darkness. Betty found she was immobile, and then the little woman's lips closed against her own, gently at first, so that she could feel the full sharply delineated imprint, and then more furiously. Betty sensed her own lips, rigid in the beginning, relax slowly under the pressure, and then as the tiny tongue slipped into her mouth, she seemed to give in completely and let the body follow it up, rubbing hard against her with loins undulating.
Winnie's hand continued to massage her breast with a woman's knowledge while Betty, yet dazed from the brutal treatment of her raping, her abused body still smoldering with the lust inspired embers they had kindled inside her, found something horribly fascinating and tranquilizing in the little woman's attentions. She closed her eyes and began to tremble all over at the strange forbidden-ness of the situation. The alien fingers crept over her like a horde of insects, taunting her to the point where any resistance would soon disappear.
Winnie held her tight, rubbing her naked body against Betty's so that the nipples of their breasts met and the breasts of the one crushed those of the other. Betty felt the woman's thigh raise and her leg twine about her until the soft matte of pubic-hair covering her pelvis brushed warmly against that of her own. Abruptly, her hand was on Betty's buttocks, pulling them apart to slip between and caress the tight sensitive anus with her finger, and then she was slithering down Betty's quivering body, rolling her gently to her back and placing herself between her spread thighs.
Betty's breath caught in her throat as the woman commenced to shower kisses on her thighs and then on the triangle of tender raised flesh between them, as she inched her legs even wider apart to reach the soft, moistening, hair-covered lips of her vagina. A great shudder coursed down Betty's spine as Winnie's tongue found her clitoris, then gently sucked it up into her mouth. Again, a wave of revulsion ran through her as she realised what was taking place, but the sexual stimulation was enormous, quickly overcoming any and all opposing emotions.
Then, Winnie was lifting her thighs up until her knees touched her shoulders, burying her face in the wet split crevice of Betty's cunt, licking and sucking maddeningly, while her fingers reached up and plucked at her distended nipples with the ferocity of hungry birds, and then her finger was penetrating the tight nether ring of her anus, venturing tenderly into the soft fleshy passage and commencing a stimulating sawing motion that sent a wild sensation racing through her.
"Oooohhh... that's so nice... beautiful," Betty moaned, erotic, if vile memories of the clearing in the woods flooding her brain, and she found herself reaching down to grasp the woman's head by her hair, and grinding her now seething cunt against the assaulting face. Between her thighs was one mass of delectable, wet sensitivity, growing more and more intense with every passing second, reaching up to a pin-point of needle-sharp feeling that would soon explode into one gigantic wave of pleasurable sensation.
So engrossed were they that Betty never heard the door open, or Birt Olander's entrance. He, too, was naked, his heavy, abundant cock rearing out from his hairy loins Hke an angry tool of vengeance. He had stood behind the sHghtly ajar door straining his eyes in the darkness, watching and waiting until he couldn't stand it any longer. He had tried to wait until Winnie signaled him, but the sounds of their wet sucking and breathing and whining had worked his pulsating cock almost to the bursting point.
Then, she saw him coming toward the bed, her mouth gaping as he chmbed onto it, and she trieo to cry out as he pushed her crimped legs baclr down toward his wife's buried face in her crotch: and lifting a leg over her deHberately, he posi tioned himself with his buttocks above her breasts, his knees snug into her arm-pits, his throbbing prick dangHng above her face.
"Now... it's my turn, honey," he hissed dowv. at her, taking her head between his hands firm] and manuevering it so that her mouth levelc even with his cock. "Suck it, bitch! Damn it, sues-it!"
At first, she did the natural thing and struggled rolling her head from side to sid* and tn^r[sr draw her thighs together at" eious assault on Jir-r cunt, but the woman had begun to lick and suck in earnest now, twisting her finger around and around in her rectum, stretching it wider with every thrust until the pain in her back passage blended with the powerful pleasures coursing through her pussy, and she let her mouth open memorably as the tongues of flame licked at her crotch, to receive the cock that plunged all the way to her throat, nearly gagging her, and desperately she clasped a hand at its base as her tongue began to work in circling motions, swirling about the blood-filled head wildly, its vivid taste stimulating her.
A strange masochistic madness had immediately taken hold of her body as she lay helpless beneath his thick cock sawing into her mouth and throat until she could feel the hair of his groin against her hps, his balls sweeping against her chin with every delightful thrust, and impaled between his wife's snakelike tongue absorbed in her cunt, and her finger drubbing between her open buttocks in wild abandoned ecstasy hard up against the insane probings of her hot, seething loins. Suddenly, nothing seemed to matter but the sweet agony of the lovely swirling sensations rippling over every inch of her naked flesh. There was nothing else in the world and she writhed and twisted beneath them as they buffeted her, using her helpless body as a receptical for their obscene, crazed lust.
"Squeeze my balls!" Birt Olander rasped down at her. "Take 'em and be gentle-like! Suck! Suck she sucked demon-like, not because he had spoken, but because she could do nothing else, swishing her tongue with vengeance around and around the throbbing head sliding in and out of her ovaled lips... She sucked to satisfy him... to end it Her head bobbing up at and around his mighty cock like a machine, the masochistic joy of being used again like a dirty slut off the streets, permeating her body in tingling submissive mewling sounds that came from her lips locked tightly around his thrusting cock. She groaned in forbidden ecstasy and knew that at any moment he was going to pump his lewd white sperm into her mouth until it ran from the edges of her lips in sticky white trails of blissful sensation that could be matched by nothing else in the world.
Then, spontaneously, a deep curse erupted from Birt Olander's throat and he locked his hands hard around the back of her bobbing head, ramming his cock deep in her mouth and sensing her wildly sucking lips drawing the hot sperm from his now pumping, electrified balls, and he felt her throat tighten and untighten, swallowing in great gulps the hot, boiling cream he was squirting into her mouth. In the semi-darkness he could see her cheeks bloat then hollow as the warm, working, cavern of her mouth filled and emptied, filled and emptied, and she swallowed hungrily as his face crumpled and wrinkled in a thousand pressures as if his breath had been knocked out of him.
But she wouldn't let go, her lips nibbling, her throat and cheeks sucking as if to draw him inside out, and he knew that Winnie had tongued her to climax. She groaned out her release as she continued gnawing at his deflated prick, and then he heard Winnit wail while she lapped and sucked at the girl's crotch, her own hand, he was certain, buried with three fingers deep in her own cunt as usual.
He pulled his prick from her still sucking mouth and climbed off her, just as Winnie rolled away from between her legs. He had no more than put his feet on the floor when he heard it. He waited a moment and it came again.
"Winnie. Somebody's knockin' at the door."
"Listen..." she said.
They did and heard it a third time.
Exhausted, Betty watched Birt Olander leave without a word to either of them, and then Winnie quickly got to her feet.
"Who can it be at this time?" she said, picking up her robe as Betty found her own nightgown and slipped it on. Then, the woman hurried out without a word, going toward the stairs and Betty looked at her clock. It was only 9:00 P.M.
Betty again lay in her bed, calloused now she thought, feeling nothing but complete relaxation in the aftermath of their orgy. Neither hate nor revulsion had taken hold of her as she might have expected... as it might have only days ago. Truly, the woman and her husband had lessened her tensions and soothed her nerves as promised. How ironical, she thought, that she, Betty Johnson of Syracuse, could lay here and think these things after what had taken place in this bed only a short time before. She even snickered to herself. And then, she merely smiled contentedly until she began to doze.
The gentle tapping at the door interrupted.
"Come in," she called, half rising in the bed.
"Dear... there's somebody downstairs to see yuh," Winnie Olander half-whispered, her expression a mixture of fright and excitement "I told him yuh weren't in any condition..."
"Who is it?" Betty questioned, embarrassed at first when the woman's eyes met her own, but then sensing a certain tightness in her throat at the sight of the mixed emotions playing on the other's face.
"Dep'ity Sheriff Moss Wellwood, honey. He's the law in Wilksbrake."
"Deputy Sheriff I Wh... what does he want?"
"Wouldn't say... Wants t'talk to you."
Betty forced a smile. "Well, I guess I better go down," she said, swinging out from the bed. She slipped into her robe and the little woman lied: "I didn't know Tx]ut Birt comin' in."
"That's all right," said Betty, her face flushing.
"It was beautiful," the woman said. "It really was..."
Winnie patted her hand and led the way down the narrow stairwell.
Moss Wellwood was a big man somewhere in his mid-fifties. He had powerful shoulders and hands, was over abundant of belly, and his square bull-doggish face bore the cruel, blood-rimmed little eyes of the heavy drinker. His uniform, consisting of khaki shirt and trousers, was soiled, wrinkled and stained, but his badge glistened and the heavy revolver in its case on his hip looked well-oiled and ready for use. As she entered the living room, Betty felt his eyes rake her appraisingly.
"I'm Betty Johnson, Sheriff. You wanted to see me?"
"Yes'm," he nodded, his voice gruff and flemish. "Like t'have yuh come 'long t'my office, Miz Johnson. Li'l matter t'discuss."
"I'm afraid I don't understand," Betty tried, watching him closely. She saw his upper lip curl slightly and the feeling of tightness in her throat increased.
"Mebbe," he grunted for answer. "Just the same, gotta ask yuh t'come 'long with me, ma'm."
"Now, see here, Moss," Winnie Olander put in. "She ain't well 'nough t'leave this house..."
Betty laid her hand on the protesting woman's arm. She managed a smile. "Ill be fine, Mrs. Olander. I'll be perfectly all right." Then, to the gruff lawman: "If you'll just wait a moment until I slip on some clothes..."
Enroute, beside him to his office, Betty mustered enough courage to ask him outright: "You mind telling me what this is all about?"
He turned slowly toward her, a wicked leer contorting his bloodless mouth. "Don't know, eh?" He chuckled softly. "Well, 'reckon the chargeTl probably be contributin' to the delinquency of minors. How's that for starters?"
Betty gaped at him, her mouth falling open, hardly believing she had heard correctly. The tightness in her throat had spread downward, constricting the muscles of her stomach, while a sinking sensation had commenced at the very base of her entrails.
"You... you can't be serious," she heard herstlf finally speak.
Moss Wellwood grunted characteristically. " 'Bout as serious as I can get, Missy." He grinned evilly at her. "You think for one goddamned minute yuh was gonna get away with what yuh done t'them kids t'other day? Yuh must be some kinda sex nympho or somethin'." Again, he grunted. "Missy, you're in bad trouble."
She couldn't believe it! It wasn't happening at all! This was just another nightmare! In a moment she would wake up and Winnie would be there... Oh, dear God! Wat were they trying to do to her now?
"C'mon, Missy. Let's go inside an' talk with some folks, eh?"
He had her arm and was firmly drawing her from the car. Once more, her brain had begun to reel. It had to be a nightmare! It had to be! The stench of stale air and disinfectant stung her nostrils as she was led inside the building and a long a hallway into a room where a cluttered desk and several chairs constituted the furnishings. She was told to sit down and she did, still in her daze, behind the desk. She watched while he lighted the stub of a half smoked cigar and then the acrid smoke nearly gagged her.
"Al' right, Missy, let's hear your version of what happened in the clearin' behind the school," Moss Wellwood growled. "An' I warn yuh, I've already heard it several times, so yuh better make it good."
It was happening! It was all hideously real and taking place at this very moment! It was a nightmare, true, but she was actually living it! What in God's name they intended to do to her, she did not know, but in some hideous way they were trying to completely destroy her. She was certain of that now. The truth! This was the only wayl Tell the truth!
"Well...?" the Sheriff grunted.
"I... I don't know how to start... it was all so horrible... Jamey Ryan came running in during the noon hour... He said Billy Bragg had fallen from a tree and hurt himself..."
She went on in a dull, flat tone, telling the whole sordid story from the beginning, endeavoring to skip over the more lurid details, but he would stop her and ask lewd questions, insisting that she be specific in her details, his red-rimmed eyes growing more beady with obvious lust as she went on. Finally, she finished, and hanging her head so that she would not have to look at those salacious eyes probing to her very soul, she waited for him to speak.
"So... that's your story, eh?" he growled finally. "Humph. Al' right, Missy." He stood and went to the door, opening it. She heard him say: "Arnold, bring the Missus an' the boy in here,"
Momentarily, Arnold Bragg, his wife and Billy entered through the doorway. They filed in but did not sit. Betty looked from the frightened, sneaky eyes of the boy to the hate twisted face of his mother.
"Filthy slut!" Dora Bragg spat down at her, her eyes blazing with vicious anger.
"Now, Dora," her husband tried to console her. "Let's not lose our dignity..."
"When you're dealin' with filth yuh treat it like filth!" she spat vilely.
"I can understand how yuh feel, Missus Bragg," Sheriff Wellwood sympathized, sitting down behind his desk. "Reckon I'd feel the same too... but don't yuh worry none, she ain't gonna get away wit it. Al' right, Billy, yuh tell us once mo what happened..."
Betty sat in stupified horror as they lied, the very students who had committed one of the most debasing acts upon her, unfolded a complete fabrication of how she had induced them to go down to the clearing with her, removed her clothing, and standing before them naked, had threatened to fail all of them if they didn't do certain things to her.
"It's not true!" Betty exclaimed, stumbling to her feet, "My God, Billy, why are you lying about me like that?"
"I ain't lyin'! I ain't! Yuh did it just the way I said! Just the way yuh made Drake Bonner do it to yuh the night of the Summerend Dance! Ask 'im, Sheriff! Just you ask Drake...!" Billy Bragg screamed.
"Set, Miz Johnson!" Moss Wellwood ordered her. "Yuh just set nice an' still a' listen."
"But he's lying!" Betty insisted. "Everything he's said is a vicious lie....."
Dora Bragg led, taking a half step toward Betty but being held back by her husband. "Yuh dirty city bred slut! Comin' here t' corrupt the morals o' children . .. good, church goin' boys. Damn yhh! If I had my way they'd send yuh t' prison for life... !"
"All right, al' right, Missus Bragg," Moss Well-wood tried to interrupt her tirade. "Now... Miz Johnson, we've already checked Billy's story here with the other boys, an' they tell it the same... word for word."
"I tell you, it's not true, Sheriff...!" Betty tried To explain.
She had a talk with Drake Bonner too," he went on, ignoring her protests, his red-rimmed eves glaring at er unmercifully. "He says yuh just hout raped him the night o' the dance, Missy. He says yuh were a regular sex-crazy woman..." "Dirty, filthy slut!" Dora Bragg burst out once detty buried her face in her hands, the sobs .'oenly gushing forth from deep inside her, her body racking convulsively. Dear God! Dear God! Why are You letting them do this thing to me? It cant be true! It can't!
But it was, and shortly, Deputy Sheriff Moss Wellwood was leading her along a hallway to the ! sack of the building, where once beyond a heavy, thick, steel jacketed door, lay a row of empty cells, their doors ajar. She let herself be manipulated as she were in a trance, all thought of further resistance suddenly drained from her. As he pressed her forward into one of the cells, she caught snatches of his words, but did not fully understand their meaning until later when she was alone.
". . . Too late... hold vuh here overnight... arraigned t'morrow 'for Judge Bonner... get yourself some sleep if yuh can... gonna need it, Missy..."
Clang! The big door shut upon her and slowly she looked about the filthy chamber with its stained lavatory bucket in the corner, and narrow cot with its dirty, soiled mattress.
At last, in utter despair, she flung herself onto the cot and wept bitterly, until she finally fell into a forlorn and troubled sleep.
Chapter 4
The creaking of the heavy iron-door being opened awakened Betty. She bolted upright and saw that it was Sheriff Moss Wellwood, a towel covered tray in his hands. She swung her feet to the floor and watched him set the tray on the only chair.
"Thought yuh might be hungry, Missy," he said, his eyes searching her face in the dim half-light. 'A! v woman fixed it for yuh."
Hetty shook her head negatively. "Thank you, out I have no appetite. What time is it?"
Bout one-thirty in the mornin'," he said, reaching toward his back pocket. He grinned. "Figured mebbe your ap'tite'd be poorly, so I fetched 'long lil'l somethin' t'perk it up."
She saw the flat pint-bottle he produced. He walked to the tray, poured into two small glasses and brought one back to her, keeping the other for himself. She studied him for a long moment, tried to read his eyes in the shadowed hght the one dim ceiling bulb produced, but could not.
"Thank you, no," she said finally, suddenly realizing that there was just the two of them alone in this entire cell block.
A light tremor of goose-flesh rippled over her as he sat down on the cot beside her. Now, she could see his eyes clearly and there was no denying the lust-filled gleam deep within them. He continued to grin, displaying his yellowed teeth.
"Do yuh good, Missy," he said, letting his eye-level drop lecherously to her firm, full breasts.
Betty swallowed tightly; her throat constricted with the effort. "Wh... what do you want here, Sheriff?" she asked him flatly, surprising her own self. "... As if I didn't know."
Moss Wellwood's grin broadened. "Well now, yuh want the whole truth, Missy, I come for a number o' reasons. Wanted t'bring yuh a bite feat, an' a li'l pick-me-up here, then... I wanted t'talk t'yuh... help yuh mebbe."
"Help me? How can you help me?"
While she watched he lifted his glass to his lips, tossed his head back and drained it. He held the other out to her. "Better take it, girl. Make it easier for yuh."
She stared at him for a long moment, the first twinges of dread coming alive inside her. At last, she said: "I could scream..."
He continued to grin. "Won't do yuh much good. Cell block's sound proof. 'Sides, why take that attitude? 'Pears to me yuh need help, Missy, an' I'm the only one what can give it t'yuh. So... why don't you an' me just be friendly like . .. eh?"
"How can you help me?" Betty repeated her question. "And trying to get his mind off the inevitable.
He held the drink out to her once more. Slowly, she took it, then he arose and went over to the tray, pouring himself another. She lifted the glass to her lips nervously, taking a small sip and feeling it burn her mouth, her throat and all the way to her stomach.
He took a step toward her, paused and tilted his glass once more, eliminating half of it. He let off a heavy sigh and wiped at his hps with the back of his rough, hairy hand.
"Missy," he growled in his guttural, flemish voice, "the evidence ag'in yuh is staggerin'. Yuh ain't got one chance in hell o' beatin' it in Judge Bonner's court... not in this here town yuh ain't. Not one lil bitty chance. It's them boys' word ag'in yours..."
"They lied," Betty said evenly. "Every word Billy Bragg told you was a he. And Drake Bonner lied..."
"Mebbe... mebbt not," Moss Wellwood said, shrugging his heavy shoulders. "But who yuh think a court in this town's gonna believe? You... or them boys? Who yuh think Judge Bonner's gonna believe? You... or his own son? An' honey, that womans' prison in Alderson ain't no place for a tender li'l piece like you."
Betty sensed her skin crawling at the sound of the word "prison." My God, it was unbelievable... that she should be sitting here in a filthy jail-cell bargaining for her freedom, accused of a despicable crime it would be impossible for her to commit. What a miscarriage of justice should she be convicted and imprisoned; yet, the horrifying truth was that as matters stood, incarceration, how ever fraudulent, was staring her blatantly in the face.
She looked up at him from her position on the edge of the cot, endeavoring to portray an outward calm by sheer force of will, while deep inside her stomach had begun to churn like a whirlpool. She was aware that his logic was sound, that the boys' word in this town was all that would be needed to condemn her. In fact, hadn't she already been condemned?
"Wh... what do you have in mind?" Betty asked, hesitantly.
He smiled, drained his glass and went to the tray for the bottle. Betty sipped at her own, taking down most of it. He returned and filled her glass once more, then his own. He said: "Claude... that's Judge Bonner, he an' me are right close. Fish an' hunt t'gether an' like that. I figure, should I have a li'l talk with him, an' point out how we can save the state a bit of money 'sides his boy's good name from bein' drug through the muck, he's gonna listen to me." He grinned. "Course, on t'oter hand, if I tell him you're a hardened li'l slut, he's gonna listen t'that . .. see what I mean, Missy?"
Betty's stomach knotted and convulsed as if it had just turned over. She got his meaning all right. There was little question regarding what he had in mind, only what was to happen to her should she be agreeable. Still, she sought to play naive.
"And what does all of this depend on, Sheriff?"
"Aww, come on, Missy. You're smarter 'n' that." He chuckled and drank once more. "You gonna !.;. luce i.mo... or yuh wanna do it the hard way?"
"I... I see. And if I'm . .. I'm nice to you as you put it, what happens to me after?"
"You'll be put on a bus to Charleston, an' the whole thing hushed up. No charges, no fuss o' any kin'," he said anxiously, draining his glass once more.
Betty felt her mouth twisting into a harsh, cynical smile of bitterness. The ghastly truth that she was about to bargain for her freedom by giving this foul brute her body seemed inconceivable to her, yet she knew that she was about to do just that... that she must do it to avoid a worse fate, however undeserved. Suddenly, she felt nauseous, as vivid memories of Birt Olander crouched over her face, his huge cock shoved half way down her throat, flooded her mind; for this man was the counterpart of Winnie's husband. Momentarily, she feared that she was going to vomit, the blood draining from her face.
Moss Wellwood read the symptoms also. He dropped onto the cot beside her, forcing the liquor in her hand to her mouth. "Drink it! All of it. It'll help."
Sire felt the amber liquid searing her throat as it spilled into her stomach with a warming sensation that slowly commenced to spread through her. The big man had his arm around her waist as if supporting her, and she could smell the heavy perspiration odor of his clothing and body. She sensed his hand tightening, his fingers playing softly at the tender flesh of her waist beneath her dress.
"You... you better give me another drink," she heard herself say, and felt him snatch the glass from her quickly. The spasm was passing, the whisky glowing warmly in her stomach. Maybe, if she drank enough it would be endurable... even with this beast. Dear God! So, this was the way it was? A bartering game. Whether it was the ladder of success, or the mere saving of your miserable life! The power of the flesh! She laughed aloud.
"Feelin' better, eh?" Moss Wellwood grinned, placing the glass into her hand and sitting down beside her, drawing her to him and letting his other coarse hand wander beneath her arm to clutch her breast in the huge palm.
She forced the thought of his hands upon her from her mind and gulped from her glass. It burned courage into her bloodstream. She said: "I haven't gone to the bathroom since I've been in here. Would you mind?"
"Not 'tall," he said, grinning at her, pulling her close to cover her mouth with his own open wet hps, while his big hairy hand massaged her breast hungrily.
She forced him away, slipping from his grasp to stand. "Where is it?" she asked. "I'll hurry."
"Good," he said, his red-rimmed eyes wild with lust. And then he pointed toward the bucket in the corner.
She looked at it unbelievingly and then back to him. "I'm supposed to use that?"
" 'Fraid so," he said, his Hps spread wide. "State specification for this poverty stricken town, Missy."
Momentarily, the tears tried to puddle into her eyes, but she fought them. There was no such thing as mercy, nor shame, nor decencyl Animals, that's what they all were! He, she... all animals! The alcohol performed its task, deadening her senses. She walked to the pail, lifted her dress, pulled down her panties and squatted. Immediately, he bolted to his feet, coming as close as he could to watch the thin yellow stream coming from between her open legs pour splatteringly into the bucket. She felt his rough hand caressing her buttock and its touch sent an unexpected, unwanted sensation through her belly.
"Take 'em off!" he said when she straightened up. "Take everythin' off!"
Her mind tried to formulate thoughts but she struggled against this. She wanted no thoughts. Nothing, only blankness. Obediently, she commenced to undress as he did the same. When she was done she went to the cot and laid down and then she saw him in his nakedness, a huge man completely covered with a wealth of hair, his great, heavy cock standing out from beneath his paunch like a thick ramrod. His weighty balls reminded her of a pair of ostrich eggs in a fuzzy suede bag as they swayed between his thighs and he stroked the thick uncircumcised foreskin back and forth over the bulbous head of his shaft.
Butterflies flitted through her belly as she tried to hate herself. He moved close to the cot and she sensed unwanted tongues of flame already firing her loins. God, what had this town done to her, mi ilic thougiit through Uic duck taste oi the cheap whiskey.
"What had it done!"
"Jeez!" he gulped, his lips wet with saliva. "You're beautiful!"
"The bottle? Where's the bottle?" she blurted at him.
He went quickly and came back with it. It was near empty. She stuck its opening between her lips and drained it, feeling the fiery fluid burst into her stomach.
The big man stroked his throbbing penis slowly, reaching down and running his other hand over the awakened mounds of her breasts and down over her belly to the soft, fleshy folds of her cunt below.
But she knew it was not Gordon. She was not that drunk. Still, if she could imagine it was Gordon . .. Her body was becoming alert now to the caresses of his heavy hands that were petting her flesh into a hot sheet of passion. A rash of goose-bumps arose over the whiteness of her sensitive skin.
Yes . .. she wanted him. He was Gordon! She wanted him! Her body ached to be touched gently and with understanding as Winnie had done before that brute .. . Oh yes... gentle... gentle . .. that way... ! Her brain swam: She had drunk too much! Good! Good!
It was time that he took her as his woman! Gordon... dear Gordon, my lover. She wanted him to crawl up inside her, to possess her, to quiet the thunder that was building up deep, once more, from his maddening fingertips, playing over her defenseless nakedness.
"Oh Gordon, Gordon darling, take me now... touch me, rub me. Ohhh yes, like that, hke that . .."
"Gordon, my ass!" Moss Wellwood exclaimed, his greedy eyes feasting lewdly on her half-conscious squirming nakedness. He edged around the cot, crouching on all fours over the white moving body, pushing her unresisting milk-white thighs wide apart. He slithered between them, his knees pressed between her ankles, his face panting a few inches above the hair-covered "V" of her open crotch. Jesus Christ! He'd never seen anything as lovely as that. His mouth watered as his eyes gaped down at it rotating sensuously, expectantly, a fraction of an inch from his lips. Saliva dripped from his open mouth to mingle with her juices secreting from the delicious narrow split that started at the bottom of the smooth white belly and trailed down between the rounded creamy moons of her buttocks pressed tightly against the mattress.
She gaped at him crouched between her legs through half-opened eyes. She could feel the flat palms of his sweating hands clasped against the tender softness of her inner thighs, holding them wide apart, and suddenly she wanted to widen them even further for him. Her secret treasure must now be open to him at his will. She watched in semi-stupor as his head lowered slowly... slowly... slowly!
"Aaaaaggghh!" she jerked when his hot, moist lips closed over the soft mound at the base of her belly. The blur of his face disintegrated in her vision, evolving once more in the soft fleece as he planted wet, tingling kisses on the still snug apera-ture, his tongue slashing insanely at the quivering opening.
"Gordon! Gordon! Gordon!"
Her own hands moved sensuously down over her throbbing breasts and slid slowly along her smooth, flat stomach, coming to rest on either side of his hips. Her fingers stroked softly for a moment at the flexing hollows of her inner thighs... then, slowly spread the fleshy, air-lined lips of the moist furrow apart, allowing his hungry mouth complete access to her wet, secret being.
She pressed her elbows to her ribs and her head tossed from side to side uncontrollably as his hot, searing tongue shot out, its soft flicking tip circling her quivering clitoris. She felt his lips suck, drawing the warm, soft folds deep into the hot cavern of his mouth, while his tongue continued its maddening licking against the straining pink bud of her sex. She groaned unashamedly from deep in her throat as the hot probing tip worked its way up and down the length of the narrow wet slit, starting at the lower belly and pressuring its way down over the elastic rimmed opening of her clasping vagina and into the crevice of her flexing buttocks, where it stopped momentarily to do a wet probing homage to the tight brown throbbing hole. Her hips ground wildly into the ancient squeaking jail cot, soft mewling animal sounds escaping pitifully from between her passion clenched teeth.
The big lawman worked frenziedly, feeling the soft wet pubic-hair brushing tantahzingly against his cheeks. Jeez, he'd never seen anything like this bitch! The way she was squirming under his tongue .. . godamn, maybe those boys were telling the truth after all. She loved it... as if she had to have it. Now, her groans drove his tongue faster as it worked its way up and down her steaming hot crotch. He wanted her begging for it when he was ready to ram it to her, and she was almost there. He'd never seen a woman so hot. Not even the whores up in Charleston could put it on like this. This one was a goddamned nympho, and no mistake about it.
Suddenly, her hands were tangled in his hair, guiding his face to the palpitating opening of her cunt and he ran his tongue into the soft rimmed flesh, flicking at it for a moment, then withdrawing it to tease around the ragged, pink edges. She forced him, pressing his mouth directly over the tight little hole in her squirming crotch, and as his Hps rounded and covered the clasping viscous opening, he thrust his tongue deep down into it, raising a low guttural groan from Betty whose soft warm thighs closed convulsively around either side of his moving head. He could feel the wet flesh shp moistly around his long extended tongue as the walls of her invaded vagina opened and closed in a sucking motion of its own, attempting to pull his tongue deeper and deeper into it. Her heels pushed down against his back, pressing his body into the flesh-trap of her open thighs until he could barely breathe, his nose smashed tightly against the tiny, hard clitoris above, breathing in the pungent odor of the lust juices now flowing abundantly from it. It was inciting his cock to a hardness he wouldn't be able to control much longer. He had to get it into her or explode all over the goddamned mattress.
Betty's body was lost in the fire of the moment. Every muscle she possessed was tensed as she strained her hips upward toward the maddening probe between her legs. Gordon was magnificent! She had never dreamed it could be like this, that he could bring such pleasure from her body.
Her love for him incited her further. Her up-drawn legs opened and closed around the tormenting head that was licking gluttonously at her flame-seared cunt. The cords of her neck stood out as she pulled with all her strength against the tangled hair of his head.
"Oooh! Oooooohh! Aaaaggghhh!" she wailed, splaying her legs wider and wider to give him greater access. "Go on! Don't stop!" she pleaded. "Oh God, don't stop now! Lick my cunt! Lick it! Lick it!" And then there came a rushing in her ears and she choked as the ceiling seemed to cave in on her with a great resounding and echoing crash, and she screamed at the sweet, intolerable delight of it, wanting it to go on forever and never, never stop. when it was over and she lay gasping and slowly recovering, he turned her over. She didn't resist. Her willpower seemed to have been drained from her with the orgasm. He kissed her smooth, oval buttocks and bit them with sharp little nips. She felt him draw them apart with his hands and lick the crevice between them. She felt the strain on her asshole as he pulled the skin around it. Suddenly, she felt obscenely naked with him hovering above the deep red little hole, but it didn't matter because he was Gordon. Nothing seemed to matter any longer.
Then, she felt his finger probing the little puckered inlet.
"Spread your legs," he ordered her. She did, so far that her feet and ankles were hanging off the cot on either side. His finger prodded. She winced, jumping forward slightly as he strained at it, and suddenly it had entered, not hurting as she had anticipated, but rather, sending a sensation of surprised pleasure throuhg her.
He moved it around in the tight expanding hole, sawing it in and out, widening the tiny anus more and more. She found herself wiggling her hips back against it, her nails digging into the mattress around her. He forced a second finger in and she winced aloud with pain, endeavoring to bounce away from him but he followed, pinning her down with his other big hand on the small of her back. Momentarily, he was still, then the fingers began to work together inside her clinging rectum. Her mouth fell open and she commenced to groan excitedly as she wriggled back onto the invaders,a warm , tingly feeling rushing over her body, appealing subjugation sweeping over her.
She could feel him deliberately stretching her asshole. She started to speak when he said: "I ain't ever fucked a woman in the ass. My wife won't let me . .. but I'm gonna fuck you there .. ."
"Yes! Yes! Fuck me there! Screw my ass!" she twisted her neck and cried back at him.
He pulled his fingers out of her, the rubbery skin of her anus clinging to them and making a sucking, hissing noise.
"Kneel," he said thickly. "Get your ass up 'n the air.
She drew her knees up under her, presenting him with the stretched orbs of her buttocks and felt his hot, hairy body move in between her thighs, and a shiver of anticipation surged through her. She felt the chunky nob of his cock resting within her split crevice, and from her upside-down position she could see between her legs where his heavy sac hung down and she reached back through the arch and gently stroked and cupped them.
"Put it in for me," he hissed at her, and she took hold of the sticky, hot, throbbing shaft, its enormity frightening her for the first time. It was twice the size of the two fingers. She held her breath as he clutched at the top of her thighs and she placed the blunt weapon against the tight, hairless opening of her backside. She felt him begin to prod and realized her fear had been well founded. It was way too big! It strained against her virginal asshole. She cried out as her spinchter gave and he popped into her. Desperately, she tried to pull away from him but he held her tight.
"Oh, dear God! It hurts! It's too big!" she cried.
But he ignored her pleas, shoving mercilessly as he hugged her hips in his savage attack and growled: "Push back! Damn yuh, shove! Shove your ass back!"
She could hardly think. Every way was pain and more pain... unbelievable agony! It was as if a great wooden totum pole was being rammed into her body.
"Back! Back!" he snarled.
She did, opening her ass with a deliberate mind shattering effort, and his huge prick surged into the spongy, resistant flesh without mercy.
"Aaaaaagggghhh!" she groaned as his pelvis smacked loudly against the softness of her white buttocks. She heard him give off a harsh whine of passion as he began to saw rhythmically deep into the soft confines of her bottom.
By degrees, the pain lessened and a certain stimulation began to blend with it. She bared her teeth and wagged her head from side to side, her hair a crazed entanglement hanging over her face as he rammed again and again and again.
He was sodomising her! Her own dear Gordon... performing this debasing act upon her! She tried to think but each time his brutal thrust would drive her forward, and she would squirm back onto his beautiful cock until soon she was filled with an all pervading masochistic joy. The pain had become strangely pleasurable. She began to shove backwards with vigor, in tempo to meet the forward movement of his loins. She found herself undulating her body and moving her buttocks in tiny circles. The excitement had begun to swell within her and she reached under her, tickling his swinging balls gently, turning her face sideways so that he could see the effect he was having on her.
Sweat poured down the face of Moss Wellwood. He was watching the pink flesh of the round hole draw back with his cock, greedily clasping at it as if to keep it from escaping. He stared in sadistic delight as his balls smacked resoundingly against her tight cunt each time he sunk his prick to the hilt in her wide-split crevice. He watched fascinated as his white throbbing cock disappeared all the way up her gyrating ass with every thrust. None of it was left visible to the eye as it submerged its full depth into the tight resilient passage, straining its head as if to burst asunder in her bowels.
His balls had commenced to palpitate almost painfully and his prick felt as if it were charged with a thousand needle-sharp volts each time he plunged into her, and now she was moaning hke a crazy woman, her beautiful face flushed, her eyes rolling in her head, panting Hke a hound in dog-days as she threw her ass back at him in that maddening circling motion. He'd always wanted to get a beautiful bitch hke her standing on her head so's he could fuck her in the ass. Well, he had one now. A real one, and she was his to do with as he wanted to... just hke he was doing... digging his cock in her ass and leaving it there, hearing her moan anu mevvi while he wiggled his hips and probed, moving it around inside her anyway he godamn liked!
"Oh yes, yes, Gordon! Fuck it! Fuck it hard!" she gasped.
He could come now whenever he wanted to. He drew it out to the tip, watched her tight elastic rectum pucker around him, then, rammed in one long smooth stroke all the way to his pelvis. She whined in ecstasy. He did it again, pulling her back onto his lust-throbbing cock hke fitting a boot, causing her to half-scream. And then, the boiling lava commenced to churn in his balls. His prick tingled and he knew it was time.
He grunted loudly as he thrust his cock's full expanded length into her wide-stretched asshole, his body commencing to jerk convulsively, his mouth hanging open and loose as he clawed at her waist with harsh, clutching fingers, pulling her buttocks even wider apart for his prick to skewer yet another fraction of an inch into her.
Shit!" he roared. "I'm comin'! Fuck back! Fuck beck!"
Betty, beneath his battering attack, felt the first delicious torrents of the hot, white cream splutter into the depths of her rectum. It surged through her body like a volcanic eruption, warming her belly reapturously. The sensation touched off her own climax and she screamed as the great gush of pleasure rippled through her, and then she could feel his hot, thick sperm running down the crevice of her wide-split buttocks to the slit of her naked cunt.
She felt the cot give as he pulled out of her with a gaseous, sucking sound, and then he cHmbed off and she collapsed, her sweat-covered body completely spent. Finally, she looked back at him and saw that he was wiping at his limp penis with a blue neckerchief. She stared at him for a long time, her vision still glazed from the liquor, but reality was slowly returning, bringing with it all tlie harsh ugliness of her situation.
He was not Gordon!
She twisted on the cot, swung her feet off and sat up, snatching up her dress to use for a covering.
At first, the move surprised the big man who was pulling on his pants and buckling his belt. He grinned down at her.
"Li'l late t'run shy on me, ain't it, Missy?"
Her head swam with the effects of the liquor. She brushed her hair from her face. "We made a bargain. Are you going to keep your end of it?"
He came over and sat down on the cot beside her, letting his big hand slip beneath the dress and between her thighs to the wet, down-covered hps of her vagina. He continued to display his yellowed teeth as he spread those dehcate petals and sunk his fingers into the warm, slippery flesh.
Betty felt no shame, and there was nothing odd about that, she thought; and she cared little what he did there. As he had said, it was a little late for that now. Instead, she said: "Well, are you?"
"Damn," he said finally. "I'm sure gonna hate to lose yuh, Missy. I never had a fuck like that 'fore in my life." He shook his big cock, in my life..
"But I'll keep my word, honey. Yuh sure earned it... an' nobody can every say Moss Wellwood ain't a man o' his word."
Betty shivered as his finger flicked at the tiny head of her clitoris. She took his wrist and gently removed the hand. He sighed heavily and stood once more.
"Sweetest cunt I ever did see," he said, shaking his head in awe. "Well now, yuh better get yourself some sleep, Missy." He walked to the cell door and opened it. "Be light 'fore yuh know it, an' you'll wanna be gettin' an early start."
Betty nodded and watched him go out, clanging the heavy door closed behind him. He grinned triumphantly back at her.
"'Night, Missy."
She didn't answer, only nodded. He left and she listened as his heavy footfalls echoed hollowly back to her, and then she lay down slowly on the cot, covering herself with her dress. She lay staring vacantly up at the recessed bulb in the ceiling with its meshed wire covering, trying not to think, not to remember. Dear God! What had she become? What had they done to her? At last, she cried... her self abomination too great to be impounded within her, the dam bursting, letting the tears cascade down her cheeks, while body racking sobs filled the tomblike chamber.
Later... a long time later, she fell into an exhausted, half drunken coma of sleep.
Chapter 5
Sometime in the wee hours, just before dawn, Betty heard the commotion. It seemed to be coming from outside the building itself, and was composed of loud shouting and cursing from raised, angry voices. She sat up quickly, her head still swimming from the raw liquor she had drunk, her wits returning groggily as she tried to concentrate on the tumultuous noise.
It was then that she realized that she was not dressed and dazedly began to gather her clothes and slip them on. Outside, the roar seemed to increase. She listened intently, but no single sound was definitive enough for her to comprehend its meaning. Only a continuous and growing angry din that was provoking that hollow, sinking sensation she had become so familiar with inside her.
Her head throbbed sickeningly in the liquor's aftermath, its torment saturating her whole body. She moved to the locked cell-door, clutching at the bars and trying to peer along the empty corridor. She rattled them and called out. Silence, except for the ever increasing sound outside. Where was he? Why didn't he come and take her out of here as he bad promised? That was their bargain, wasn't it? He would put her on the bus for Charleston if she... if she... Oh, dear God I It raced through her brain Hke a roaring torrent. ReaHty... rekindling the horror of her situation, the loathsome grotesqueness of all that had befallen her since she had stepped from the bus a week past. But suddenly, more abhorrent to her than all else was her own despicible submission and performance in this ugly ceU only hours before. She hadn't merely succumbed to Moss Wellwood's perverted lust... she had bargained wilHngly, giving herself to his beastial desires almost wantonly!
Dear, dear God! To what degraded depths had she sunk? And how much further into the filth must she submerge...?
Abruptly, the steel-jacketed door at the end of the corridor opened and she could hear the rapid approaching of footfalls. There was more than one person... Thank God! Mr. Bixbee was with him .. .
"Miss Johnson, you poor child," he said pityingly as Moss Wellwood inserted the key, unlocking tiie heavy door. "Are you all right... ?"
"Yes, yes... I'm all right," Betty said anxiously, avoiding the big lawman's burning eyes. "What is all that noise outside?"
Eustace Bixbee swallowed, then looked to the Sheriff to answer her.
"It's a mob, Missy. A tar an' feather mob," Moss Wellwood informed in his gravel voice.
"T... tar and feather. . . ?" she repeated, his meaning registering slowly in her aching skull. "For... for me?"
Hell nodded. "They's after you, Missy. That's about the size of it. An' I don't reckon they're gonna be happy less they getcha."
Betty stared at him, her fear increasing perceptibly. "But you promised..." she started to say, then caught herself, remembering Eustace Bix-bee's presence. "Are... are you saying that they are going to break in here and take me out?"
"That's about what they aim to try, Missy," he replied, rubbing at his square chin. "An' they're pretty all fired hot-up about it too. Seems if Dora Bragg spent half the night runnin' from house to house, 'till she's got the whole town worked up..
"But you can't let them! You... you can't!" Betty stammered, "After all, I am your responsibility aren't I? It's your duty to protect me!" She swung to the Httle man. "Mr. Bixbee, you've got to help me!"
"There, there, let's keep our heads, Miss Johnson," the Principal repHed in an effort to console her. "That's why I'm here, my dear... to do everything I can. You... you must remember that your situation is...," he cleared his throat meaningfully, "is rather a... a deficate one."
"Mr. Bixbee, I'm innocent of those charges," Betty snapped at him firmly. "Those boys have done nothing but lie... "
"Yes, of course, Miss Johnson," he interrupted her, nodding his Httle head emphatically. "I'm certain you are... but I doubt that we can convince that upset crowd out in the street, now can we?"
"I'll tell yoh both the way I told you last night, Missy," Moss Wellwood put in. "You could never convince a court in this here town. An' even if yuh could, what good's it gonna do yuh? Ain't no parent gonna want yuh teachin their young uns ; 'round here no more."
"He's right, Miss Johnson," Bixbee agreed quickly. "There's just one thing we can do... and that's to try and get you out of town as soon as possible."
Betty looked from one to the other of them. She no longer had any lingering hope that there was a way of salvaging her dream, or even her falsely blackened reputation. She had relinquished all such notions last night when she bargained with this lecher who hid behind the badge, but she had never in her most remote fears worried that her life might be in danger. For a moment, all she knew,he was a brainless, leaderless monster, and although tar-and-feather might be its initial goal, her lynching could be the end result. It had happened before, and it could happen again!
Betty sensed a cold, clamminess creeping over her and she reached out, clutching the little man's arm. "How? How can you get me away from here?"
Eustace Bixbee cleared his throat nervously. "I... I'm not sure that I can, Miss Johnson... but I'm willing to try. Sheriff Wellwood and I have been discussing it. I've already picked up your things from the Olanders. They're in my car now and it's parked in the rear of the building. If... if we can get you out the back way and onto the floor in the rear seat without being seen, then, we'll cover you over and I'll drive you to Charleston."
"But... but, can I get to your car without being seen... ?" Betty questioned, realizing the chances she would be taking by exposing herself to the now howling throng.
"That's the whole point, Missy," said Moss Well-wood. "You gotta understand... it's a gamble. Once you're out there... an' should they see yuh, well.. . they ain't much I could do for yuh, I'll tell yuh true."
Betty swallowed, her mouth and throat suddenly parched.
"It's a chance, Miss Johnson," Eustace Bixbee said.
"On t'other hand, I don't know how much longer I can keep 'em from bustin' in here an' takin' yuh anyway," the big lawman added.
Dear God! Dear God! Here it was! Penance!
Then, she heard the ever increasing clamor outside, and the little Principal was saying: "Sheriff Wellwood's idea is for him to go out and face them, trying to concentrate their attention on him while we get to my car. Miss Johnson... it's your only chance of getting away from here unharmed."
Betty gaped at them. Her apprehension had nearly paralyzed her senses of reasoning. She had to steel herself from going completely to pieces. The thought of venturing outside the protection of this building where the mob raged petrified her. Dear God, she wanted to scream!
"Well, Missy?" prodded the big man. "It's your decision."
Now, she looked to him, thinking how ironical her bargain with him had turned out. She could write a book. That was funny, really funny. Yes, she could write volumes on the vile duplicity of man... men... yes, even boys.
"All right, Mr. Bixbee," she heard herself say. "I'm ready..."
Indeed, it had come off rather smoothly. She had lain beneath the blanket, her heart in her mouth while the httle man had driven at an agonizing pace through the shouting and screaming voices. She had felt them thumping the car as it passed through the throng, and at one point when he had come to a complete stop, actually exchanging words with several of them, she had been certain their plan was discovered. But then, they were moving once more, until the tumult was fading behind them, and she relaxed, all energy seeming to drain from her.
Later, perhaps some thirty minutes, she sensed the car stopping, and momentarily the blanket was peeled back from her head.
"You can get up now," Eustace Bixbee said, smiling down at her from where he was leaning over the front seat. "You're safe, Miss Johnson."
She did, getting out of the car and climbing into the front with him. He was still smiling, proudly, Betty thought, as she watched him reset his slipping dentures.
"I... I don't know how I'm ever going to thank you for this, Mr. Bixbee."
"Pshaw,", he replied, embarrassedly. "I'm just happy it worked is all."
Betty sighed in rehef. For the first time in days she enjoyed a feeling of safety, as if she could comfortably relax. They were underway again, moving toward Charleston. And then it occurred to her how slovenly she must appear, having been unable to clean herself up properly in that horrid jail-cell. She said: "If you don't mind stopping at a service station, Mr. Bixbee, I'd Uke to straighten up a bit."
"Of course, Miss Johnson," he agreed genially. "I would imagine that you're hungry too. We'll watch for a place where we can do both."
Actually, she dozed off and slept for more than an hour. When he awakened her, the sun was well up in the sky and they were parked near the Ladies Room of a large service station with an adjoining lunchroom, and after she had washed, combed her hair, put on fresh makeup and sUpped into another dress, they had put away a heavy breakfast before starting out again.
"Well, what do you propose to do now, Miss John... may I call you Betty?" he said, the latter part of his question surprising her.
"Why... of course, Mr. Bixbee."
"And you call me Eustace," he said, smiUng over at her, his teeth wiggUng loosely with the effort.
Betty felt a httle flush creep into her cheeks, although she couldn't reason why it should.
"So... what do you intend to do now, Betty?"
"I... I'm really not sure," she replied, truly endeavoring to give his question some thought. "I... I realize that I've failed miserably in Wilksbrake, but I do feel that I want to go on teaching. However, it's not going to be easy facing the I-told-you-sos of my fiance and my parents." She sighed. "I really don't know, Mr. Bixbee..."
"Eustace," he corrected with the inimitable smile.
She forced a little smile in return. "Eu... Eustace."
Then, he frowned. "So you'd like to keep on teaching? Hmrnmmm."
His reaction startled her. She said: "You made that sound rather grim. Does my decision upset you?"
"N-no, of course it doesn't." He pursed his little mouth. "But under the circumstances... well, I should think you'd had enough of it."
Betty studied him briefly. His meaning wasn't exactly clear to her, but she ventured: "I don't believe it'd be fair to condemn the profession because of the deplorable things that happened back there, do you? I mean, I can't let myself think that all young people are the equal of those filthy young animals..." She caught herself and paused. "I'm sorry, I guess it'll be awhile before I forget this past week... if I ever forget it."
He cleared his throat. "I can well understand why it would be vivid in your mind. It... it must have been horrible for you."
She shuddered at the thought of it. From the beginning to the end it had been a living night- mare, she told herself. And now that she was safely away from there she wanted to forget it...
"But what bothers me most, Betty," he was saying, "is your teaching credential. Naturally, a report has to go in from my office, and... welL quite frankly, I don't know how to handle it."
Again, Betty studied him, the ambiguity of his statement confusing her. "I don't think I understand you."
"Oh... ?" he said, glancing at her then back to the road ahead quickly. "I thought that you knew that the retaining of your license to teach would now come in question. It always does in situations such as these you know."
"I'm aware that therell be questions raised," said Betty, scrutinizing him closely now. "But it'll only be a matter of your reporting the truth, won't it?"
"Precisely, my dear," he replied, his bugging eyes through his spectacles suddenly acquiring a gleam she had not before seen. "But the truth, according to the evidence accumulated by the Sheriff's office is not the truth as you tell it. And believe me, my dear, I have no doubts regarding your honesty. However... any report that I give has to be based on the findings passed to me by the civil authorities... if I make myself clear."
His words seeped into her brain with strange clear meaning, much clearer than he might have surmised at the moment, and she said: "But under the circumstances, Mr
Eustace, you could cer- tainly temper that report by telling my side, and favoring my story as being the truth. Undoubtedly, your opinion will carry much weight."
"Unquestionably," he said, the gleam in his eye brightening to a near licentious glow, leaving her httle room for doubt now of what was taking place in his mind. "On the other hand, my sweet, let's consider that I too have a job to protect. Unlike you, I must go on living in Wilksbrake, and to incur the wrath of the least local citizen could be most detrimental to my future. I'm sure you understand..."
"Yes," she replied, cutting him short. "I'm afraid I do. You want me to bargain with you... correct?"
She thought she detected a twinge of red blossom in his thin cheeks. He said: "You're putting it rather crudely, my dear... but in essence, yes, that's exactly it."
"I see... " She could not hold back the rage mounting inside her. "And exactly what did you have in mind, Eustace, my dear?"
He glanced sharply at her, his eyes filling rapidly with his obvious lust. He licked at his bloodless lips and Betty saw his false teeth slip repulsively. "I'll see that a proper report is filed in your behalf... providing..."
"Yes? Providing?"
"... You let me make love to you!" he blurted.
There! There it was! She threw back her head and laughed a mirthless sound.
"Well?... Well?" he rasped nasally, squealing above her frenzied sounds.
Now, she gaped at him once more, her lovely eyes alive with her scorn. "You filthy Httle man!" she spat. "You're no better than the rest! Like all of them, you're foul and vile! So... once again, the power of the flesh. And they say that there's a God... If that be true, how does He let the Hkes of you exist? To destroy the Hkes of me? Can that possibly be it? Is Hfe a complete hypocrisy?"
"Answer me! Will you?" the Httle man whined, spittle dribbhng from the corner of his mouth.
"Make love to me, you say?" Betty sneered the words from her anger twisted Hps. "You mean fuck me don't you, Eustace, darling? Isn't that the filthy accurate definition of what you have in mind? Not make love, but fuckl"
"Jesus!" he swore, perspiration oozing onto his forehead at the sight and sound of her mouth spewing out the obscene word. Already, his prick had leaped and commenced to swell. He had hoped to gradually work her into a motel, even double rooms in the beginning if necessary, and then cleverly play his hand. But Christ almighty, there was no need of spending that kind of money now. It was aU out in the open. Fuck. She'd said with her own mouth... that beautiful, lovely mouth that he'd dreamed of clasping over his cock! How long had it been since he'd known enjoyable sex? Crawling on top of that mountain of puss who called herself a sociahte from Charleston... And then, he reafized she had not yet given him an answer! He whined: "Well? Answer me! Is it a deal?"
Betty's laugh was half hysterical by this time. "Sure," she managed fmaUy. "Sure, Eustace, my love. Why not you along with all of the others? I want my license... you want to fuck me in exchange. Why not? Why not?"
He saw the turnoff and swung the car violently, the rear end sliding crazily against the gravel of the secondary road as he gunned it, watching either side eagerly for a secluded spot, while Betty lay her head against the back of the seat, almost grateful for the callousness that was suddenly thickening the hide of a pitiful Httle naive girl... yet in the embryonic stage.
"I told you so," remarked Gordon while Cino poured her a glass of Chianti '55.
Betty could not contain her smile as she lifted the crystal-shanked glass to her lips. She tasted before speaking.
"You're so wise, Gordon darling. I surprise myself when I go against your wisdom."
"You're rubbing it in..."
"No, really, darling. I mean it. Since I've known you, you've never been wrong."
He leaned across the table toward her, his slender handsome face in a half-smile. "All right, you're too kind," he said, raising his glass to drink. "So, what now, angel? The deprived Indians in Arizona, maybe?"
She tittered. "Of course not."
"What then? Me, maybe?"
"Tonight for sure."
He caught himself, swallowing tightly. Her inflection of tone was too pointed to be mistaken. Had she learned? Truly, he could note a change in her. For the better, he hoped. And she had obviously missed him. The light in her eye indicated something devilish... and promising. Cripes! Supposing she did? Supposing she gave in all the way? How would he feel after? Would he still want to marry her? She'd been clever to this point, knowing that twisted quirk in a man's brain... at least in his. Would he? God almighty, he didn't know. After all, he wasn't exactly a slob on the street with his position in the world. There were plenty of girls who would flip if he gave them the chance. He could think of a few, but it had been Betty ever since that first night. He stared at her. She was absolutely breathtaking.
"You're thinking," she said, sipping at her wine, the candle-light playing upon her lips.
He nodded. "How does it feel to be home?"
"Lovely. Like I want to go to my place where we can be alone," she said softly, thinking of the pleasant apartment she had taken, and what was to come when she led him there.
"I'm ready when you are."
"I was ready when we left," she said, smiling and retrieving her handbag, standing simultaneously.
They had taxied. There seemed to be something urgent at hand that they both felt, yet it was not getting into the bed alone. It was as if there was a measure of testing place in the secret mind of each of them. In fact, they both had mads specific gestures toward slowing that inevitable moment down. She had fooled with records while he made several different kinds of drinks ,.. and then, he had kissed her, there on the floor where they lounged against the pillows.
He might have kissed her a dozen ways, but he had chosen that one with his tongue, and spontaneously, she had sucked it down into her mouth hungrily.
He had finally drawn it back, raised his head and stared at her, then kissed her once more in the same manner. She couldn't resist. The fire was already mounting within her. She had sucked his tongue into her mouth probing and charging it with her own.
He didn't raise up to stare into her eyes this time. His cock was jumping. Instead, he cupped her breast, caressing it tenderly, and for the first time she began to squirm on the floor across his lap. Then, her own tongue shot up like a hot little wedge of fire into his mouth and he could taste the sweetness of her. He dropped his hand to her slightly protruding little belly and stroked as her breath quickened in his mouth, then he let it trace down over the rise of her pubic mound to her thighs, all the way to the hemline above her knees, and still she didn't reach down, even to hinder him.
It was his night! He knew it now. She had resolved herself, just as he was certain that she f; would one of these times. But would he want her after... ? Would he? Hell... what difference did that make? His cock was a hammer now. This moment... now, here, was what counted! Look at her, her dress pulled to her thighs... her beauti- 'i ful, luscious thighs .., Betty gazed up at him. She lay in his arms across his lap, her eyes searching his ruthlesj ones.
She loved him in a particular way. She had felt his prick jump. Delicately, she moved her back in a manner as to aggravate his pelvic region. She supposed it was not fair, but she didn't care. She wasn't trying to be fair... only fulfilling.
That was a lovely word too. Fulfilling. What would he do now if she reached down and squeezed his cock? Freeze? Whimper? Squeal with joy? God, how she'd hke to, but decorum was in order, even though she had no predicted end for what was to come. Ad lib. More irony perhaps.
Suddenly, he lifted her to him, kissed her and ran his hand down the front of her dress to clutch at her naked breast.
She gasped aloud.
He squeezed while his tongue played in her mouth and she nibbled at it. Then, his thumb and forefinger found the nipple and rolled it tenderly between them, generating tiny shocks through out her body.
"Oh Bett...," he whispered into her mouth.
She continued to suck his tongue drawing its liquid into her throat as the fires went on building inside her. She worked her way to her side in his lap, then placed her hand on his chest, gradually drawing it down over his stomach until it rested above his groin.
Gordon swallowed twice. Christ! She was going after it, he gulped, sensing her fingers slowly unzipping his fly. Then, they were inside, exploring... until suddenly the cool air rushed against it. Jesus Christ! She had his cock out!
Betty let her eyes rove over that portion of it, she had brought to hght. She studied the foreskin and its thickness. In her mind, she compared and was not disappointed. Again, she examined and saw the lubricating fluid glistening its purple tip. Tenderly, she stroked the uncircumcised foreskin down its full length and helped it return to cover the throbbing gland of its head.
"Damn!" Gordon exclaimed.
She squeezed tightly for answer, then dropped her lips, kissing its head. She positioned her body so that he could see, then she kissed it again.
"Oh Betty!" he exclaimed again.
She took it into her mouth letting her tight hps move slowly down its shaft, her tongue working tauntingly as she lowered onto it, and then raised with a strong sucking motion, tasting the pungent tang of it.
"Oooooh God!" Gordon blurted.
Again, she slid her mouth down, absorbing it into the hot, wet cavern, her hps clasping tightly enroute, her tongue commencing to aggravate beneath the sensitive head at its tip until he cried: "Jesus, Bett, get your clothes off!"
But she was not ready yet. Instead, she sucked and tongued his prick until it was throbbing wildly in her mouth, and then she was ready.
She almost leaped from his arms, slipping the clothes from her body, while Gordon squirmed on the floor, holding his tool in his hand. He was squeezing it at the head to keep the fluid from gushing out of it. Her lusciousness before him, stripping, after she had actually sucked his cock was more than he could stand. He never wanted to come! Only to revel in this aurora of ecstasy his Betty had created for him. He knew now for certain that she was his. His cock ached because she was his. But... but it would be over in a little while and she'd cry after him. He knew now that this was it. She'd cry after him! Fuck her! Fuck her deep and then leave! That was it, wasn't it? He had to think of himself too!
She dropped to the floor beside him and fell back, pulling him over on top of her. Immediately, her hand searched down between them, seizing his lean jumping prick and guiding it between the hair-covered lips of her moist cunt. She moaned up into his face, her eyes closed, her hips grinding.
Good God! He couldn't believe it. Something had happened to her that he couldn't comprehend. He eased his hips forward, not wanting to hurt her with that initial thrust, but the mouth of her cunt seemed to clasp and suck at his shaft as if to gobble it into her, and suddenly he penetrated her with a rush, the absence of any virginal resistance amazing him.
His cock drove up her, tightly at first, but not that maiden tightness he had expected, yet it hurt him all along the solid flesh of his rod until he had stroked several times and her inner cunt-walls seemed to slowly expand. She cried out beneath him, a little howl of mixed pleasure and pain. He thrust until their pelvic flesh slapped resoundingly together, and she strained back under him, arching her naked loins up to his now ramming cock, his balls whacking into the split crevice of her buttocks taunting her tiny, puckered anus with to! every stroke. She moaned incessantly, her nails raking the flesh of his back feverishly. She bit. at his lips, turned her face convulsively away, then came back to bite once again.
God, she'd cry after him! The thought raced through his brain.
"Put your finger in my ass," she hissed into his face. "Quick! Put it in!"
His mind whirled at her request. He reached under her to the wet crevice between the luscious, white spread moons of her buttocks, spread them even further, found the puckered ring and dug into the first knuckle.
"Aauuuugggghh," she gasped, then, she was screwing her ass back onto his finger until it was entirely buried in the snug spongy passage.
His cock was a throbbing, aching piston of pleasure. The thought of what he was doing to her was firing him on like a demon. He moved his finger around wildly in the soft flesh of her asshole. He felt his nail gouge the tender flesh and she whimpered, jerking away momentarily, but coming right back to present her ass for further punishment.
Fuck her deep and then have! She'd cry after him! But he didn't care anymore. His loins felt coiled like a rattler ready to strike. His cock felt huge, as if it were growing and growing, expanding and contracting, throbbing almost painfully.
She clung to him tightly with her long, lovely legs wrapped around him, her strong thighs squeezing his hips, slackening and clamping, while her hungry pussy milked his prick with spasmodic clutches.
"Fuck me, darling! Fuck me hard!" she rasped, her face a deep furious crimson, her neck strained back, her fingernails tearing the flesh of his back and ribs. "Oh shit... I'm cuuuuuummmmmmm-iiiinnnnggg!" she cried, pulling back her thighs until her knees touched her shoulders, presenting him with a stretched and widely gaping fissure of wet, hair-lined flesh. He rocked into her with pile-driving thrusts, her legs over his shoulders now as she drove her crotch up at him with bruising force. Her mouth fell open, working fishlike, her nostrils flared and her eyes glazed. He stared down at her in stark amazement. She gave a sudden shrill squeal and screwed herself up onto his prick, holding herself there while her loins worked up and down and he continued to pummel his finger into her asshole.
Christ! He loved her! Bight at that moment he was certain of it! There wasn't the shadow of a doubt in his mind! They'd be married! Yes! Yes!
And then, she expelled her breath in a long, long deep sigh, and slowly collapsed beneath him, her body shaking and quivering in the aftermath of her climax, and he eased his finger from her bottom as he lowered his hps to hers.
"I love you, Bett," he whispered, still squirming his passion-hard member into her.
She smiled up at him. "I know," she said, gently rolling him off her and onto his back. She looked at him with the long purring expression of a satisfied cat. "Now, I'll finish what I started," she said softly.
He gasped more in awe than anything as she slithered down him to where his wet, glistening cock stood as rigid as a tree stump. She leaned over him, stroking it tenderly, lovingly, first with one hand, then both.
Christ, he'd go out of his mind if he didn't come soon... I She brought her mouth down to it, enclosing the full, pulsating glans in a soft, warm pressure. He groaned, thrusting his loins upward automatically as the warm moistness of her open Hps closed over the throbbing, sensitive head. The very thought of what she was doing gave him as much excitement as the act itself.
God, yes! They would be married and she could do this to him every night! She was holding his prick with one hand, lying on his loins, while she began to suck it steadily, rhythmically. Up and down and with a twisting motion of her tongue at the peak of each stroke.
He tensed his loins. God, how he loved her! The sight of the action was driving him mad. She moaned and began to suck a bit harder, nipping now and then with the edges of her teeth. His prick was white beneath the scraping suck and rich purple at its smooth rubbery tip.
She took her hand from his shaft and slipped both of them under the cheeks of his ass, holding them while she plunged her mouth down over it from above. Christ, it nearly disappeared right down her. It occurred to him that this was not the first prick she'd ever sucked! But whose? Where? In that goddamned hick town... ?
Her tongue, with that final swiping lick, was making the glans vibrate and pulse maddeningly. Her breasts jerked and danced below her pumping torso, adding to his lust, and he felt the movement growing in his balls. He watched her face stuffed with his cock, working over him voraciously, her lips being pulled out grotesquely, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked hungrily. He thrust his pelvis up at her face, arching his body. His mouth worked drily and his cock felt as if it were filled with molten lead and ready to explode. He gasped... God almighty, what would she do when he came. . . ? Damn! It was time! Growing, building, building! Bursting! He writhed his hips furiously and tangled his hands in her hair, the white hot stream beginning deep in his balls and surging along the length of his cock. He choked, bared his lips back from his teeth as if she were drawing the lining from the inside of his sac.
His prick lurched into a frenzied staccato jerking that flooded without warning Betty's wildly sucking mouth with gush after gush of his white-hot sperm, bloating her cheeks outward with every throbbing squirt until she swallowed to keep from choking, mewling and crooning at his pumping loins.
With one last earth shattering groan, he emptied the last of his load into her hps, until gradually, his penis deflated in her mouth, but she went on gently nibbling it, sucking out the very last dregs of his warm, thick sperm. He let off a deep sigh and fell back, spent. She lay for some time with her head resting on his belly, then she eased up his body and kissed him on the mouth.
"There," she said contentedly. "How's that for openers?"
He stared at her, not knowing how to answer her, he was that overwhelmed. She smiled down at him, knowing this. Abruptly, he clasped his arms around her and hugged her down to him, his hps kissing her eyes, her nose, her mouth.
"I love you," he whispered hoarsely. "When will you marry me?"
She eased from his tight grasp and sat up. "No questions you want to ask me... after that performance?"
"They can wait."
"I see. Then you weren't surprised?"
"Yes... but that doesn't matter," he said, reaching for her once more. "All I know is, that I can't go on any longer without you... not after that."
She placed her hands on his chest between them. "But darling, don't you see? You won't have to go on without me. Whenever you want me, I'll probably be here, just as I was tonight."
"Probably?" he repeated, sitting up quickly. "As my wife, you better be here..."
She placed an extended finger over his lips. "Darling Gordon, I'm not going to be your wife for some time... if ever. I'm not going to be anyone's wife... I'm just going to be my own girl... and live a Httle."
He commenced by shaking his head slowly as she straightened to her feet, and Betty watched the numbed, hurt expression creep over his face.
"You... you mean... after what we just did, you won't marry me... ?" he stammered, incredibly.
"Yes... that's exactly what I mean."
"But... but the way you were going at me... I thought it was because you loved me... ?"
She smiled. "Sweet, conceited, ruthless Gordon. My poor angel. I'm afraid you'll never understand, but the fact is that I went at you because you are a man... and I find that I love men... all of 'em it seems."
"You... you don't know what you're saying!" he choked.
"I think I do, darling. These past weeks have taught your Betty a lesson of life she's not about to forget right away... and maybe never," she said, a light flickering in her lovely eyes that he had never before witnessed there. "I find that I've a great deal of living to do before I ever settle down to wifely duties. I just hope you understand, Gordon."
"And... and if I don't?" he shot at her, his voice hardening in rising anger and wounded pride.
"Then... I'm sorry," she said simply, crossing the room to where she had left her drink, feeling his eyes caressing her long naked body, the pungent taste of his male sperm still a delicious tang in her mouth. And then, she found herself wondering if they all would taste the same, so far they had, and as she turned to smile back at him she saw the tears on his cheeks. But, she could feel no compassion in her soul for him-now it was her turn to take for awhile-her turn to make the rest of the world squirm, just as she had finished doing to Gordon a moment ago... and then she knew, she knew the tables had been turned on her back there in Piney Woods. Rather than giving them a hunger for knowledge, which was a teacher's reason for being... they had given her one... an insatiable one for their kind of knowledge....
